LIBRA^RY 


Theological   Seminary, 

BV  4907  .B44  1845 
Beith,  Alexander,  1799-1891 
Sorrowing,  yet  rejoicing, 
or.  Narrative  of  recent 


Book,,, 


SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING: 


NARRATIVE 


RECENT  SUCCESSIVE    BEBEAVEMENTS 


MINISTER'S  FA3IILY. 


"  What  sh:\l!  I  say  t  lie  hath  both  spoken  unto 
me,  aiid  Himself  liatli  doiii'  it:  I  shall  go  aoftJy 
all  my  ytars  in  the  bitterness  of  my  soul." — 
Isaiah,  xxxviii,  15. 


SIXTH  EDITION. 


NEW  YORK  : 

EORERT  CARTER,  58  CANAL  STREET. 
PITTSBURG  :— THOMAS  CARTER. 


1845. 


PREFACE. 


The  domestic  afBlction  described  in  tbe  following 
pages,  excited  the  sympatiiy  of  many,  even  stran- 
gers to  the  sufferers,  who  at  the  time  heard  of  it. 
Circumstances  connected  with  this  season  of  trial, 
in  which  God  was  pleased  to  show  the  riches  and 
power  of  his  grace,  have  suggested  the  publication 
of  the  Narrative.  Fi  lends,  whose  judgment  was 
worthy  to  be  trusted,  were  of  opinion  that  the 
knowledge  of  those  circumstances  ought  not  to 
be  contiiied  to  tiie  narrow  circle  in  which  they  oc- 
curred. And  a  hope,  that  a  short  account  of  them 
may  prove  useful,  through  the  Divine  blessing,  has 
overcome  the  reluctance  which  must  ever  be  felt 
to  disclose  to  the  public  eye,  either  the  privacy  of 
the  domestic  hearth,  or  the  secret  feelings  of  the 
niiTid,  on  such  an  occasion. 

In  the  sick  rooms  of  our  dear  children,  whilst 
watcliijig  by  tlie.in,  I  found  sevi  ral  little  books, 
which,  in  the  days  of  health,  pious  friends  had  sent 


IV  PREFACE. 

them, — rccoids  of  those  who,  in  chiliibnod  nnd 
early  youth,  had  been  cnlled  away  from  the  tender 
affection  of  earthly  parents  to  dw(  11  in  their  heav- 
enly Father's  honse, — books  which  we  had  oftrn 
perused  t05»efher,  and  of  which  we  had  often  con- 
versed, but  whose  va(ae  1  Iiati  never  justly  appre- 
ciated till  now.  Though  unpretending  in  their  ai> 
pearance,  I  recognised  in  them  friendly  visitors  for 
auch  a  time  as  this.  By  them  the  good  Shepherd 
spoke  to  us,  saying, — "As  many  as  I  love,  I  re- 
buke and  chasten;"  "Fear  not:"  "When  thou 
passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee." 
If  the  following  pages  be  blessed  to  accomplish  the 
same  end  to  other  sufferers  in  the  hour  of  domestic 
affliction,  and  be  made  effectual,  in  any  measure, 
to  "turn  the  heart  of  the  fathers  to  the  children, 
and  the  heart  of  the  children  to  their  fathers," 
the  object  of  the  writer  will  be  fully  accomplished. 

Mansk  of  G ,  Inverness-Shirb. 


SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 
CHAPTER  L 


"Jehovah  hear  thee  in  the  day 
VViien  trouble  he  doth  send." 


About  a  year  ago,  only,  our  family 
consisted  of  seven  dear  children, — the 
oldest  twelve,  the  youngest  approach- 
ing two  years  of  age, — five  being  girls, 
and  two  boys.  They  were  then  in  the 
enjoyment  ol  perfect  health.  In  the 
preceding  winter  they  had  had  mea- 
sles, but  the  complaint  on  running  its 
course,  though  preceded  by  influenza, 
seemed  only  to  have  strengthened 
Ulieir  constitutions.  No  serious  ail- 
ment had  ever  afflicted  any  of  them, 
and  no  breach  had  ever  been  made  in 
their  number.     Residing  in  a  remote 


6  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICINQ. 

and  secluded  situation,  at  a  distance 
from  relations  aad  friends,  they  knew 
no  society  but  that  of  each  other ;  and, 
happy  in  this,  they  had  never  desired 
to  know  more.  Like  "  olive  plants," 
they  grew  up  around  our  table,  and  the 
goodness  of  the  Lord  to  us  in  them  of- 
ten filled  our  hearts. 

At  the  above  mentioned  period, 
hooping-cough  appeared  in  our  parish 
Of  a  mild  type,  though  we  avoided  ex- 
posing the  children  to  infection,  when 
it  seized  them  we  felt  no  alarm ;  nor, 
such  being  its  character,  did  we  regret 
that  it  had  taken  them.  A  more  fa- 
vourable season  could  not  have  been 
desired,  but,  strong  in  hope,  we  anti- 
cipated the  result  which  had  followed 
measles,  and  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of 
ourdarhngs  surpassing  both  complaints, 
not  in  safety  only,  but  with  comparative 
ease.     These  shoals  passed, — the  most 


CHAPTER   I.  7 

dangerous  to  bodily  health  which  beset 
the  outset  of  life — we  looked  forward 
with  confidence  to  the  voyage  which  lay 
beyond.  We  had  ever  sought  for  them, 
from  Him  who  had  given  them  exis- 
tence, "first  the  kingdom  of  God  and 
his  righteousness;"  but,  knowing  the 
value  of  the  promise,  we  had  also  often 
asked  that  their  "  days  might  be  long 
upon  the  land," — and  we  expected  the 
blessing  for  his  own  name's  sake.  But 
perhaps  we  too  much  forgot  that "  God's 
thoughts  are  not  our  thoughts,"  and  that 
"  by  terrible  things  in  righteousness,"  he 
often,  as  "  the  God  of  salvation,"  an- 
swers prayer. 

The  season,  as  all  will  remember, 
became  extremely  rigorous  towards  the 
close  of  the  year,  and  continued  so  until 
the  summer  months.  Nothing  unusual 
appeared  in  the  case  of  the  children 
before  the  close  of  January ;  but  they 


8  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

then  began  to  suffer  from  fever, — al- 
ways an  attendant  of  hooping-cough. 
In  the  commencement,  and  during  a 
great  part  of  the  progress  of  the  disease, 
they  had  none  ;  when  it  appeared,  as 
we  knew  it  to  be  a  natural  symptom, 
no  alarm  was  produced.  For  a  consid- 
erable period  the  severity  of  the  fever 
did  not  amount  to  what  caused  any 
alteration  in  their  usual  habits, — they 
were  still  able  to  attend  the  governess, 
and  to  proceed  with  their  studies.  But 
towards  the  end  of  January  and  begin- 
ning of  February,  Matilda,  our  eldest, 
became  so  much  oppressed,  that  she 
was  withdrawn  from  the  school-room; 
and,  as  her  mother  had  been  in  delicate 
health,  she  became  her  companion 
during  her  convalescence.  After  a 
little,  however,  the  fever  seemed  to  yield 
to  the  usual  treatment,  and  her  speedy 
recovery  was  expected  with  confidence. 


— ® 


CHAPTER    I.  y 

The  other  children  also,  soon  after  this, 
became  worse,  and  were  conlined  to 
the  sick-roora ;  but  they  soon  be:ian  to 
amend,  and  appeared  rapidly  recurring 
to  their  wonted  health.  The  cough 
had  nearly  disappeared, — its  severity 
was  quite  gone^  and,  Avith  the  antici- 
pated fine  weather  of  spring,  we  hoped 
that  all  would  be  well  again. 

Whoever  has  read  Mr.  Bickersteth's 
"  Domestic  Portraiture"  of  Mr.  Rich- 
mond's family,  must  have  been  struck 
with  the  truth,  as  well  as  beauty,  of  the 
remarks  occurring  there  on  the  difficul- 
ty of  judging  of  the  state  of  the  religi- 
ous feeling  in  young  persons.  Diffidence 
and  backwardness  to  speak  of  their 
spiritual  condition,  natural  to  youth, 
and  for  the  most  part  so  becoming  at 
that  period,  chiefly  operate  to  produce 
this.  Yet  there  is  nothing  more  deep- 
ly exciting  to  the  mind  of  a  parent  who 


10        SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

knows  the  value  of  the  soul,  when  dan- 
gerous sickness  has  seized  the  youth- 
ful group,  than  to  be  assured  of  the  state 
of  their  hearts  in  the  sight  of  God, — as 
holy  Mr,  Richmond's  feelings,  describ- 
ed in  the  work  alluded  to,  testify. 
Death,  in  any  circumstances,  is  in  it- 
self dreadful;  but  when  we  know  or 
have  good  reason  to  hope,  that  the  "  se- 
cond death"  shall  have  no  power  over 
those  who  are  about  to  be  torn  from 
us,  the  last  euerhy  is  stripped  of  all  his 
terrors.  Parents,  therefore,  may  some- 
times be  relieved  of  much  distress  by 
remembering  that  children  are  not  to  be 
judged  of  as  those  who  have  come  to 
maturer  years.  And  that  discoveries 
may  be  made  of  their  spiritual  state, 
calculated  to  fill  the  hearts  of  parents 
with  adoring  gratitude,  and  their 
mouths  with  praise,  our  happy  experi- 
ence, which  we  desire  to  record  for  the 


CHAPTER    I.  11 

direction  and  comfort  of  others,  testi- 
fies. Though  "  slow  to  speak,"  chil- 
dren may  be  "  swift  to  hear ;"  and, 
when  living  in  a  spiritual  atmos|ihere, 
when  the  conversation  listened  to  by 
them,  the  books  read,  and  the  example 
witnessed  tend  heavenward,  like  the 
unobtrusive  plant  which,  unnoticed, 
imbibes  nourishment  from  every  geni- 
al breath,  tlieir  youthful  minds  may  be 
secretly  extracting,  from  the  various  in- 
fluences to  which  they  are  subjected, 
that  "  hidden  wisdom"  which,  as  it  is 
by  the  Spirit,  ultimately  produces  "  fruit 
unto  life  eternal."  Hence  it  follows, 
that  parents  who  endeavour  to  train 
their  childen  "  in  the  nurture  and  admo- 
nition of  the  Lord," — all  whose  exer- 
tions in  the  use  of  means  are  accom- 
panied with  persevering  earnest  prayer, 
are  not  entitled  to  concljJe  that  He  is 
not  dealing  savingly  with  their  souls, — 


12        SORROWING,    YET    RKJOICING. 

that  no  effectual  change  is  being 
wrought,  because  the  spiritual  conver- 
sation ■which  ihey  desiderate  is  awan- 
ting,  or  because  they  still  see  in  their 
children,  the  gay  vivacity  which  health 
and  the  society  of  each  other  naturally 
produce.  Nor  when  sickness  comes, 
and  the  conversation  then  turns  on  the 
solemn  things  of  the  soul  and  eternity, 
are  they  always  to  suppose  that  the 
feeling  in  them  which  promotes  this 
exercise  has  had  its  origin  in  the  alter- 
ed circumstances  in  which  they  are 
then  placed.  Natural  fear  operating 
on  an  alarmed  conscience  may  some- 
times account  for  it ;  but  affliction,  loo, 
may  be  the  means  of  quickening  the 
living  seed  w^hich  Avas  previously  sown 
in  silence,  and  of  forcing  to  rapid  ma- 
turity those  spiritual  buddings  which, 
hitherto,  they  knew  not  whether  to 
consider  tares  or  wheat ;  and  to  judge 


CHAPTER  I.  13 

of  this  as  in  every  other  case  no  more 
than  the  production  of  days  of  darkness 
contrasted  with  those  of  youthful  joy, 
would  argue  but  little  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  and  would  be  applying 
to  children  a  rule  by  which  they  ought 
not  to  be  tried. 

From  the  womb  they  may  be  sanc- 
tified, but  the  developement  of  the  work 
of  the  Spirit,  so  that  it  may  be  seen  of 
men,  must  await  God's  time ;  and  it 
will  ever  be  in  perfect  consistency  with 
their  circumstances  and  opportunities ; 
though  Christians,  they  will  still  be 
children.  In  the  case  of  the  sickly 
who,  from  this  cause,  are,  in  their  ear- 
liest years,  separated  from  those  of 
their  own  age,  and  who,  as  they  cannot 
engage  in  their  childish  sports,  cease  to 
have  a  relish  for  them,  and  are  thus 
thrown  almost  entirely  into  the  society 
of  the  advanced  in  life, — when  a  work 


14         SORROWING,    YET    RFJOICING. 

of  grace  really  exists,  the  displays  of  its 
exercise  will  be  powerfully  affected  by 
circumstances  of  such  a  nature.  In 
cases  of  this  kind,  most  remarkable  tes- 
timonies have  often  been  borne  to  the 
power  of  divine  grace  in  children  of  al- 
most infantile  years,  characterised  by 
a  depth  of  reflection,  an  extent  of  know- 
ledge, and  a  maturity  of  understanding, 
incredible  to  those  who  have  not  wit- 
nessed it.  Facts  corroborative  of  this 
remark  are  innumerable.  But  the  good 
seed  may  be  sown  in  childhood,  and 
remain  in  the  heart  where  no  such  ex- 
ternal influences  prevail  to  urge  it  to  a 
precocious  ripeness.  The  productive- 
ness may  then  differ  in  degree,  but  it 
will  accord  in  nature  with  the  other. 
The  wounded  branch,  ere  it  die,  may 
put  forth  what  appears  an  unnatural 
energy,  and  may  bend  to  the  earth 
with    its  load ;    but   the   scanty    fruit 


CHAPTER    I.  15 

and  richer  folia^fe  of  llie  healthy,  will, 
lie  less  certainly,  itidicate  the  charac- 
ter of  the  "  root"  from  which  they 
mutually  derive  their  productiveness. 
A  season  of  affliction,  such  as  passed 
over  us,  may  come,  when  the  luxuriance 
of  harvest,  unlocked  for  so  soon,  how- 
ever desired,  may  be  made  most  rapidly 
to  appear.  But,  should  such  a  time  be 
withheld,  years  may  pass,  and  the 
events  of  life  appoar  to  produce  their 
usual  efT.'Cts ;  the  "  clods  of  the  val- 
ley" may  seem  to  triumph,  and  the  la- 
bours of  a  pious  upbringing  to  fail ; 
until  at  last  "  the  time  to  favour"  ar- 
rives, and  the  power  that  is  not  "  of 
the  will  of  the  flesh  nor  of  the  will  of 
man"  is  exerted,  "  until  the  Spirit  is 
poured  from  on  high  ;"  then  "  the  wil- 
derness becomes  a  fruitful  field,  and 
the  fruitful  field  is  counted  for  a  forest," 
and  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  are  seen 


16        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

to  be  at  once  a  chosen  generation  and 
a  pecvliar  people.  In  proof  of  which 
remark,  witness,  once  more,  the  history 
of  Mr.  Richmond's  family. 

Reflections  such  as  these  were  often 
strongly  suggested  amidst  the  health 
and  happiness  which  our  youthful 
group  so  long  enjoyed  ;  and  they  con- 
stituted the  source  of  much  consolation 
when  troulilous  times  at  last  overtook 
them.  With  prayerful  expectation  we 
often  looked  forward  to  the  period  when 
their  light  should  "break  fonli  as  the 
morning,"  when  personal  godliness, 
with  usefulness  in  their  day  and  gene- 
ration, should  testify  to  the  reality  of 
that  spiritual  life,  indications  of  the 
existence  of  which,  we  sometimes 
hoped,  we  already  discovered.  But 
God  had  provided  some  better  thing 
for  us ;  for  times  and  seasons  are  in 
his  power. 


CHAPTER    I.  17 

The  education  which  we  had  en- 
deavoured to  give  our  children  might  be 
truly  said  to  be  Scriptural.  Whilst 
secular  learning  was  prosecuted  with 
much  success,  every  exertion  was  made, 
in  and  out  of  the  £chool-room,  to  store 
their  minds  with  the  Word  of  God. 
The  great  truth  was  ever  kept  before 
them,  ''that  the  wisdom  which  cometh 
from  above," — the  saving  knowledge 
of  God,  is  alone  truly  important, — that 
this  is  the  one  thing  needful,  whilst  all 
the  rest  might  be  dispensed  with. 
Catechetical  instruction  was  confined 
to  the  Mother^s  a^d  Assembly's  Cate- 
chisms;  and,  with  these,  hymns,  tracts, 
and  religious  narratives,  suited  to  their 
capacity,  were  largely  furnished  them, 
and  eagerly  perused.  And,  though  last 
in  this  enumeration,  certainly  not  least 
m  importance,  was  the  proving  of  Scrip- 
ture truths  from  the  inspired  Word. 
2 


18         SORRO\\aNG,   VET   REJOICING. 

Under  this  discipline,  we  were  frequent- 
ly amazed  at  the  clear  comprehension 
of  Christian  doctrine,  in  all  its  bear- 
ings, manifested  by  them.  We  knew, 
indeed,  but  too  truly,  that  mere  human 
acquirement  may  be  mistaken  for  spir- 
itual life, — the  illumination  of  the  un- 
derstanding for  a  change  of  heart ;  but 
we  also  knew  that  God  can  dwell  in 
the  soul  of  a  child,  that  he  can  quicken, 
as  well  as  gi^^e  light;  and,  conscious 
as  we  were  of  imperfection  and  short- 
coming in  all  that  we  did  our  secret 
thoughts  at  times  suggested,  that "  flesh 
and  blood"  had  not* revealed  to  them 
what  they  knew. 

On  one  occasion,  when  the  exercises 
of  the  evening  of  the  Sabbath  were 
past,  and  the  other  children  had  retired, 
Matilda  being  alone  with  her  mother, 
she  said  to  her, — "  How  concerned  ara 
I,  Matilda,  that  you  should  yeeZ,  as  well 


CHAPTER   I.  19 

as  know  the  truth."  After  some  hesi- 
tation, and  as  if  ashamed  to  confess  it, 
she  answered,  "  Mamma,  I  do  feel,  and 
I  have  been  nights  that  I  have  not 
slept  under  anxiety  about  my  soul." 
In  her  illness,  we  ascertained  that  she 
had  been  much  awakened  during  the 
prevalence  of  cholera  in  the  country, 
though  the  pestilence  had  never  visited 
our  neighborhood,  and  that  then,  though 
little  more  than  six  years  of  age,  she 
had  often  retired  for  secret  prayer  on 
other  occasions  besides  her  stated  sea- 
sons. Sermons  heard  had  also  some- 
times aroused  her.  She  spoke  of  one 
particularly  from  Psalms  xxv.  11, 
preached  by  Mr.  M'Donald,  Urquhart, 
on  the  occasion  of  the  baptism  of  a 
little  sister,  and  repeated  its  divisions 
and  particulars.  All  these  things,  we 
are  now  fully  persuaded,  were  the  gra- 
cious strivings  of  that  mighty,  though 


20         SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

unseen  power,  which,  unperceived  in 
its  operations,  can  reveal  to  babes  the 
hidden  mysteries  of  true  godliness, 
when  they  are  concealed  from  the  wise 
and  prudent. 

Though  saving  impressions  may  be 
borne  down,  they  are  not  of  necessity 
uprooted,  by  the  hilarity  and  playfulness 
of  healthy  childhood.  The  impetuosity 
of  the  current  may  bend,  so  as  to  cover 
and  conceal  the  plants  of  heavenly 
growth  which  have  sprung  in  the  heart; 
but  when  occasions  arrive  which  cause 
this  current  to  subside,  they  raise  their 
heads  again,  where  they  exist,  with 
undiminished  vigour.  Dispensations 
which  bring  eternity  near  to  the  youthful 
mind,  constitute  such  occasions :  for 
then  the  word  of  truth  bears  most 
powerfully  upon  the  conscience.  A 
season  of  this  kind  was  granted  our 
family    when    measles    entered  it, — a 


CHAPTER  I.  21 

year  previous  to  the  visitation  of  hoop- 
ing-cough. Neither  did  tlie  children  nor 
we  at  any  time  apprehend  a  fatal  termi- 
nation ;  but  so  much  of  serious  and 
solemn  feeling  was  produced  in  all,  the 
usual  flow  of  animal  spirits  was  so 
subdued,  as  to  afford,  iu  our  apprehen- 
sion, a  favourable  opportunity  to  test 
the  tenderness  of  their  hearts  with  re- 
ference to  divine  things.  How  great, 
then,  was  our  delight  to  see  them — es- 
pecially the  older  ones, — eagerly  turn,  of 
their  own  accord,  to  the  one  blessed  sub- 
ject, and  desire  only  the  Word  of  God, 
with  such  looks  as  exhibited  its  truths, 
to  be  read  to  them !  How  cheerfully  were 
their  oft-repeated  requests  to  be  gratified 
in  this  way  complied  with!  And  how 
blessed  the  reflection  then,  but  especi- 
ally now,  that  in  such  occupation  they 
sought  and  found  their  happiness, — 
their parentsnever  appearing  so  beloved 


22         SORKOWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

by  them  as  when  conversing  on,  and  re 
commending  the  things  which  belonged 
to  their  everlasting  peace  !  I  shall  never 
forget  my  sensation  of  sanctified  plea- 
sure on  the  occasion  of  their  recovery 
from  their  ailment,  when  I  invited  them 
into  my  study,  that  we  might  together 
acknowledge  the  good  providence  of 
God,  and  give  him  thanks  that  they 
had  all  been  brought  in  safety  through 
a  dangerous  disease, — their  alacrity  to 
engage  in  the  duty, — their  solemnity 
when  engaged,  and  their  deep  feeling 
when  it  ended.  Alas  !  little  did  I  then 
think,  that  in  one  short  twelvemonth 
I  should  be  weeping  over  the  grave  of 
those  who  then  were  most  affected  ! 
But  how  different  should  be  my  tears, 
had  I  not  such  recollections  to  dwell  on, 
and  could  I  not  recall  those  occasional 
gleams  of  heavenly  sunshine,  which 
formed  the  precursors  of  that  glorious 


CHAPTER  1.  23 

illumination  which  it  pleased  the  Lord 
to  shed  upon  their  latter  end  ! 

Let  not  parents  ■who  desire  to  be 
faithful,  think  lightly  of  the  slightest 
intimations  of  feehng  in  their  tender 
offspring.  The  folly  bound  up  in  their 
hearts  may  shade  the  work  of  the  Lord, 
without  extinguishing  it.  Let  them 
watch  and  pray  over  "  the  good  thing" 
which  He  may  have  found  there ;  in 
due  time  they  may  reap,  if  they  faint 
not. 

Matters  continued  with  our  poor  in- 
valids much  as  I  have  already  describ- 
ed them,  until  about  the  middle  of  the 
month  of  Maich.  I  had  engaged  to  as- 
sist at  the  Communion  in  Glasgow, 
which  was  to  be  celebrated  in  the  be- 
ginning of  April,  and  it  now  approach- 
ed the  time  at  which  it  should  be  ne- 
cessary for  me  to  leave  home.  The 
medical  attendant  had  recommended 


24        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

change  of  air  for  them  all,  and  especial- 
ly for  Matilda,  who  had  by  this  time  so 
far  recovered  as  to  make  it  advisable 
that  she  should  accompany  me.  A 
beloved  aunt  of  hers,  who  had  passed 
the  winter  with  us,  and  whose  conver- 
sations on  religious  topics,  Matilda  told 
us  afterwards  she  believed  had  been 
blessed  to  her,  was  about  to  be  married 
to  another  valued  relative,  acd  our 
dear  child  was  asked  to  form  one  of 
the  party  on  the  occasion.  As  I  was 
to  perform  the  ceremony  on  my  way 
to  Glasgow,  it  was  arranged  that  she 
should  accompany  me  so  far,  and  await 
my  return.  The  little  preparations  re- 
quired for  the  occasion  in  view,  ac- 
cordingly, claimed  some  attention  for 
the  present ;  but  although  Matilda 
seemed  pleased  with  the  prospect  of 
being  my  travelling  companion,  and  of 
the  happy  meeting  of  friends  to  which 


CHAPTER  I.  25 

we  looked  forward,  she  exhibited  none 
of  that  eagerness  or  impatience  which 
might  have  been  expected  in  one  of 
her  age.  When  we  recollected  her 
lively  expression  of  warmth  of  heart  on 
ordinary  occasions,  her  present  compo- 
sure could  not  but  affect  us.  Alas  ! 
had  the  veil  been  lifted  off  futurity  but 
for  a  short  moment,  what  a  season  of 
sorrow  should  we  have  beheld  at  the 
very  threshold, — contrasting  so  strong- 
ly with  present  anticipations  ! 

To  prepare  Matilda  for  the  journey 
which  we  contemplated,  it  was  thought 
proper  to  accustom  her  to  the  open  air. 
She  was,  therefore,  on  two  or  three  oc- 
casions, taken  out  when  the  weather 
permitted,  and  her  general  health  seem- 
ed to  benefit  by  the  exercise.  As  the 
time  drew  nigh  for  our  departure,  we 
ceased  to  fear  any  interruption  of  our 
project ;   and  as  we  were  assured  that 


26        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

change  of  scene  was  all,- under  Provi- 
dence, that  was  required  for  her  per- 
fect recovery,  our  hopes  were  high  that 
her  usual  health  would  soon  be  restor- 
ed.    But,  a   few  days   before  the  time 
fixed  for  setting  out,  she  caught  a  fresh 
cold,  by  what  means  we  could  nevei 
ascertain,  and  a  return  of  the  fever  en 
sued.     At  first,  we  hoped  that  the  at 
tack,  which  appeared  by  no  means  for 
raidable,  would  speedily  pass  ;   but  th« 
fever  lingered  beyond  all  our  calcula 
tions,  and  it  soon  became  evident  that 
poor  Matilda  could  not,  with  safety,  be 
exposed  to  the  fatigue  and  risks  of  the 
purposed  journey,  and  that,  for  a  little 
longer,  she  must  be  confined   to  her 
room. 

In  ordinary  circumstances,  such  a 
disapointment  was  calculated  to  be 
severely  felt  by  a  child  of  twelve.  The 
mild  composure  which  she  exhibited 


9 


CHAPTER   I.  27 

under  it,  accordingly,  deeply  interested 
and  delighted  our  hearts,  while  it  ex- 
cited all  our  sympathy.  No  mnrraur 
was  heard,  no  regret  expressed ;  and 
though  at  that  time  she  had  not  reveal- 
ed to  us  the  state  of  her  mind,  nor  had 
we  discovered  the  holy  principle  by 
which  she  was  animated,  we  now 
know  that  her  patience  was  the  fruit  of 
that  saving  grace  which  renews  the 
the  will,  and  brings  it  into  conformity 
to  the  perfect  will  of  God. 

This  relapse  distressed  us  much  in 
the  circumstances  in  which  it  occurred  ; 
but  we  felt  no  alarm  for  her  safety. 
The  solemn  duty  on  which  I  was  call- 
ed from  home  could  alone  reconcile  us 
to  the  temporary  absence  which  it  de- 
manded ;  and  the  few  days  of  separa- 
tion from  my  family  wmch  were  re- 
quired, appeared  a  trial  which  no  for- 
mer separation  ever  had.     But  as  I  had 


28        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

the  private  opinion  of  the  medical  at- 
tendant, giving  assurance  that  nothing 
serious  appeared  in  Matilda's  case,  and 
that  every  symptom  indicated  a  speedy 
recovery,  a  sense  of  duty  overcame  my 
feelings  of  affection  ;  and,  urged  both 
by  our  dear  child  and  her  mother,  I 
left  home,  in  the  expectation  that,  at 
furthest,  in  a  fortnight,  I  should  rejoin 
them  all  in  happier  circumstances. 
Alas  !  how  little  do  we  know  what  so 
short  a  period  may  bring  forth;  and 
how  slow  of  heart  are  we  to  believe 
that  we  cannot  boast  of  to  morrow  ! 

"  Oh  !  what  is  life !    'Tia  like  the  bow 
That  glistens  in  the  sky: 

We  love  to  see  its  colours  glow- 
But  while  we  look  thf-y  die. 

Life  fails  as  soon  :  to  day  'tis  here 

To-morrow  it  may  disappear." 


CHAPTER  IL 


"  O  grave  !  where  is  thy  tiiuinph  now  1 
And  where,  O  df-ath!  thy  sting  V 


It  was  a  day  or  two  after  I  had  left 
home,  that  Matilda  disclosed,  for  the 
first  time,  the  whole  state  of  her  feel- 
ings. Occasional  expressions  had  fall- 
en from  her  to  myself  before,  which, 
with  her  intelligence,  and  the  general 
tenor  of  her  conduct,  had  produced  in 
my  mind  the  happiest  anticipations ; 
but  the  unreserved  avowal  of  her  expe- 
rience had  not  been  made  till  now. 

Her  mother  had  concluded  their  usu- 
al exercise  of  reading  the  Scriptures, 
and  had  sat  down  beside  her.  Matil- 
da began  by  saying,  that  she  had  for 


30        SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

some  time  back  been  anxious  to  open 
her  mind  to  her,  but  that  she  could 
never  find  resolution  to  do  it.  This 
she  deeply  regretted  ;  and  particularly, 
that  she  had  not  spoken  to  me  before 
I  left  home.  She  stated,  that  she  had 
now  made  up  her  mind  not  to  defer  it, 
as  she  considered  it  sinful  to  have  con- 
cealed the  state  of  her  feelings  from 
her  parents  so  long.  She  then  lament- 
ed, in  bitter  lermr^,  her  being  a  sinner, 
and  that  she  could  not  keep  from  sin- 
ning.    . 

"  When  I  think,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  that  God  cannot  look  upon  sin  but 
with  horror,  is  it  not  dreadful  that  I 
cannot  keep  from  sinning ;  and  when 
I  think  of  God's  love  towards  me,  in 
not  sparing  his  own  Son,  it  grieves 
me  sorely,  and  wounds  my  feelings 
that  I  can  so  sin. — Doesn't  it  hurt  your 
feelings,  mamma?" 


CHAPTER    U.  31 

"  It  ought  certainly  to  do  so,"  was 
her  mother's  reply,  "  but  I  am  afraid  it 
does  not  enough." 

SJie  then  said,  "  We  are  poor,  weak, 
sinful  creatures,  but  Christ  will  do  all 
for  us." 

Her  mother  remarked,  that  it  was 
through  Christ  alone  the  pardon  of  sin 
could  be  obtained  ;  to  which  she  replied, 
"  O  yes :  and  I  am  constantly  pray- 
ing that  my  sins  may  be  washed  away 
in  the  fountain  of  His  blood.  I  have 
often  had  convictions  before,  but  they 
were  not  permanent, — now,  I  cannot 
avoid  having  before  my  eyes,  day  and 
night,  what  a  sinner  I  am.  I  am  so 
ignorant  I  require  a  great  deal  of  teach- 
ing ;  and  I  hope  you  will  every  day  be 
speaking  to  me  on  these  subjects.  I 
will  be  praying  that  the  Spirit  may 
bless  your  instructions.  I  hope  you 
will  be  praying  for  me,  too  ;  and  I  am 


32         SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

sure  my  dear  papa  prays  for  me  where 
he  is."      . 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupt- 
ed by  some  one  coming  into  the  room. 
Though  reserve,  as  to  the  secret  of  hei 
heart,  was  abandoned  in  regard  to  her 
mother,  it  still  appeared  too  sacred  to 
be  revealed  to  others ;  and  in  such  a 
matter  she  shrunk  sensitively  from 
display. 

Her  humiliation,  under  a  sense  of 
sin,  truly  bespoke  the  presence  of  that 
influence  for  which  she  in  secret  pray- 
ed,— the  power  which  alone  can  pro- 
duce "  godly  sorrow,  which  worketh  re- 
pentance unto  salvation."  In  her  view, 
God's  "law  was  exceeding  broad  ;"  its 
spirituality  and  extent  such  as  to  cause 
her  to  record,  against  herself,  a  sentence 
of  condemnation  as  the  chief  of  sin 
ners.  Yet  her  sense  of  mercy  in 
Christ  at  least  equalled  her  humiliation 


CHAPTIiR    II.  S3 

She  beheld  him  as  God's  unspeakable 
gift  to  sinners,  loving  her, — able  and 
wiliinj^  to  save.  Thus  she  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  the  adoption  of  the  children 
of  God. 

On  the  succeeding  day,  her  mother 
did  she  engaged  in  reading,  as  usual, 
rhen  she  again  spoke  with  great  feel- 
cg  of  the  evil  of  sin  ;  and  deplored  her 
jondition  in  the  s-ight  of  God. 

"  How  harrowing  to  my  feelings,' 
she  exclaimed, — the  large  tears  rolling 
over  her  face,  "  that  I  cannot  keep  from 
sinning!  When  the  Lord  is  pleased  to 
restore  me  to  health,  I  trust  I  shall  live 
differently  from  what  I  have  done 
hitherto.  And  when  papa  comes 
home  I  am  resolved  to  conceal  none  of 
my  feelings  from  him.  I  know  my 
great  ignorance,  and  how  much  I  re- 
quire to  be  taught.  He  and  you  will 
be  teaching  me, — and  we  shall  be  so 
3 


34         SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

happy  together,  speaking  of  spiritual 
things ;  for  although  I  know  a  good 
deal  of  the  Scriptures,  I  do  not  under- 
stand them  as  I  ought." 

Thus  did  she  breathe  the  aspirations 
of  her  soul  after  increased  knowledge 
of  God,  holiness,  and  spiritual  enjoy- 
ments. Her  mother  spoke  to  her  of  the 
freeness  of  the  Gospel,  and  of  its  glory, 
— Christ  being  willing  to  receive  the 
chief  of  sinners,  when  she  listened 
with  most  marked  delight;  and  seem- 
ed to  derive  comfort,  in  the  highest 
sense,  from  looking  to  Jesus  as  a  cruci- 
fied and  exalted  Saviour. 

"  Have  you  any  doubt,  my  dear," 
her  mother  asked,  "  of  Christ's  willing- 
ness to  receive  you  ?" 

"  O  no,  mamma  1"  was  the  immedi- 
ate reply  ;  "  think  of  his  own  beautiful 
words,  '  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  la- 
bour and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 


CHAPTER   II.  35 

give  you  rest ;'  and  again,  '  Ho,  every 
one  that  thirsteth,  come  'ye  to  the  wa- 
ters, am]  he  that  hath  no  money,  come 
buy  wine  and  milk,  without  money  and 
without  price.' " 

These  passages  were  quoted  by  her 
with  such  emphasis,  and  her  whole 
manner  and  expression  so  struck  her 
mother,  that,  for  the  first  time,  an  idea 
took  possession  of  her  mind  that  prob- 
ably the  Lord  was  preparing  her  for  an 
early  removal  from  the  world,  and  thai, 
in  her  youth  she  might  be  called  away. 
This  solemn  reflection  produced  a 
pause  in  the  conversation.  After  a 
little,  her  mother  said  to  her^  with  cau- 
tion, that  she  might  not  be  startled, 
"Matilda,  do  you  think  yourself  dy- 
ing V 

"  No,"  was  the  reply ;  and,  with  a 
somewhat  alarmed  look,  she  asked, 
"Do  you  think  me  dying,  mamma?" 


3b  SORROWING,    YET    RbjOlCING. 

Slie  immediately  continued,  without 
^Yaiting  for  the  answer, — "  but  nobody- 
can  say  how  any  sickness  may  end." 

One  of  the  symptoms  of  her  com- 
plaint was  extreme  deafness,  which 
proved  a  distressing  hindrance  to  free 
conversation.  It  often,  however,  af- 
forded opportunities  of  discovering  her 
secret  experience  ;  for,  during  the  night 
especially,  and  at  other  times  also, 
when,  from  this  cause,  unconscious  of 
the  presence  of  any  human  witness, 
her  prayers  were  uttered  aloud,  and 
expressed  the  most  humble  dependence 
on  sovereign  mercy,  with  earnest 
longings  for  the  graces  of  the  Spirit, 
and  meetness  for  heaven.  The  cor- 
rectness of  expression,  as  well  as  depth 
of  feeling,  struck  every  one,  as  indicat- 
ing an  understanding  wonderfully  ma- 
tured, through  grace,  as  well  as  a  heart 
sav^ingly  changed.      Supplications,  ut- 


CHAPTER  11.  37 

tered  in  terms  like  the  following,  were 
often  listened  to  by  those  who  watched 
by  her: — 

"  O  Lord,  I  am  unworthy,  but  I  be- 
lieve that  for  the  sake  of  Christ  thou 
wilt  hear  and  answer  me.  O  wash  me 
in  the  fountain  of  his  blood.  Give  me 
a  new  heart,  to  love  and  serve  tliee. 
I  would  give  myself  up  to  thee,  spirit, 
soul,  and  body  ;  and  I  beseech  thee, 
O  Lord,  to  let  me  rest  satisfied  with 
nothing  short  of  thyself.  Sanctify  un- 
to me  this  sickness,  and  give  me  pa- 
tience to  bear  it.  Bless  my  parents, 
my  brothers  and  sisters,  with  all  that 
are  dear  to  me  in  the  whole  world.  O 
give  me  thy  blessing,  and  accept  me, 
for  Jesus'  sake.     Amen." 

On  the  occasion  of  the  conversation 
related  above,  she  complained  of  her 
deafness  ;  and  stated  her  distress,  that 
she  could  no*  hear  distinctly  what  waa 


38  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

spoken  to  her.  Her  mother  reminded 
her  that  God  could  make  up  for  that 
disadvantage  a  hundred-fold  ;  and  that 
the  teaching  of  his  Spirit  was  infinitely- 
better  than  that  of  all  men.  She  seem- 
ed quite  comforted,  and  said,  "  I  will 
pray,  then,  to  be  kept  from  impatience 
under  my  trial." 

On  the  Sabbath,  when  her  mother 
came  to  read  to  her,  and  had  finished 
the  usual  exeicise  from  the  Scriptures, 
she  asked  whether  she  should  then  go 
on  to  read  some  of  the  small  books 
which  they  were  so  fond  of  hearing. 
Her  answer  was,  "  O  no ;  those  books 
are  very  good,  but  the  Bible  is  the  only 
book  for  me  now." 

On  being  asked  what  part  of  the 
Scriptures  she  preferred,  the  answer 
was,  "  What  I  may  understand." 

The  eleventh  chapter  of  the  Gospel 
by  John  was  selected ;  and  she  listened 


CHAPTER   II.  39 

with  close  attention  and  deep  interest. 
When  her  mother  came  to  the  words, 
"  He  that  beUeveth  in  me,  though  he 
were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live," — "  Stop," 
she  cried,  "there  is  the  truth,  '  he  that 
believeth,  though  he  were  dead,  yet 
shall  he  live ;' "  uttering  the  words 
"  believeth"  and  "  dead,"  with  all  the 
emphasis  she  could  employ. 

Her  mother  called  her  attention  to 
Martha's  blessed  state,  when  Jesus 
asked  her  if  she  believed  this,  and  she 
was  able  to  reply,  "Yea,  Lord,  I  be- 
lieve that  thou  art  the  Christ."  "  O 
yes,"  she  answered  ;  and  seemed  lost 
for  a  little  in  deep  thought,  responding 
to  her  mother's  observation,  "  No  one 
could  say  that  unless  taught  of  God." 

She  then  spoke  of  the  Psalms,  and 
remarked,  that  they  were  her  favourite 
portion  of  the  Scriptures  ;  as  in  reading 
them  she  always  felt,  that  whatever 


40        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

her  circumstances,  there  she  found 
something  to  suit  her.  After  some  ob- 
servations of  this  .kind,  she  requested 
the  ciii.,  the  11.,  the  Ixxxiv.,  and  the 
Ixii.,  to  be  read  to  her. 

On  this  day  her  mother  first  became 
alarmed,  and  thought  her  in  danger. 
The  medical  attendant  was  still  of  his 
original  opinion,  and  expected  that  she 
was  now  at  the  crisis  of  what  did  not 
at  any  time  appear  a  formidable  relapse 
of  fever  from  cold.  He  had,  on  this 
morning,  administered  some  strong  me- 
dicines ;  and  as  the  exertion  of  hear- 
ing, when  she  Avas  addressed,  exhaust- 
ed her  much,  it  was  necessary  to  leave 
her  undisturbed  as  much  as  possible. 

On  Monday,  she  spoke  often  of 
the  vanity  of  the  world,  and  seemed 
deeply  impressed  with  the  folly  of  seek- 
ing or  expecting  any  thing  satisfactory 
m  it.     The  Lord  was  loosening  all  her 


CHAPTER   II,  41 

affections  from  things  seen  and  tempo- 
ral, and  preparing  her  to  leave  them 
without  a  sigh.  He  was  teaching  her 
to  judge  them  by  the  rule  of  those, 
who,  in  everjr  age,  have  confessed,  be- 
cause they  were  made  to  feel  them- 
selves pilgrims  and  strangers ;  and 
who,  crucified  to  the  world,  have  de- 
sired "  a  better  country,  that  is  an 
heavenly." 

She  spoke  much  also,  on  this  day,  of 
her  own  sinfulness,  and  of  the  mercy 
of  God  in  Christ.  After  enlarging  for 
some  time  on  this  topic,  she  exclaimed, 
"  Well  might  David  say,  '  Thou,  O 
Lord,  art  a  God  full  of  compassion,  and 
gracious  ;  long-suffering,  and  plenteous 
in  mercy  and  truth."     Psa.  Ixxxvi. 

From  the  commencement  of  hooping- 
cough,  there  had  been,  in  Matilda's 
case,  the  peculiarity  of  great  difficulty 
in  recovering  breath  after  the  fit.    As 


42  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

the  cough  became  milder  in  its  charac- 
ter, and  when  it  began  to  disappear,  she 
was  occasionally  much  distressed  with 
what  we  took  to  be  asthmatic  spasms. 
Previous  to  the  relapse,  they  had,  in  a 
measure,  ceased  ;  but  in  the  beginning 
of  this  week  they  returned  again,  and 
became  more  frequent,  as  well  as  more 
painful. 

On  Tuesday,  she  expressed  a  desire 
to  be  removed  from  the  bed  on  which 
she  was  lying,  to  a  small  couch,  which 
could  be  moved  at  pleasure,  and  from 
which  she  could  look  out  upon  the  fields, 
where  the  operations  of  spring  were 
going  busily  forward.  While  there, 
she  seemed  full  of  gratitude  for  her 
comforts  and  mercies,  and  spoke  much 
and  often  of  the  love  of  God  in  bestow- 
ing them  so  abundantly  on  her,  "  such 
a  sinner,  and  so  unworthy."  On  one 
of  these  occasions,  she  cried,  "  Is  it  not 


CHAPTER  II.  43 

dreadful,  mamma,  that  I  have  lived 
in  this  world  for  twelve  years  in  sia  ? 
— but  I  hope  the  Lord  will  enable  me, 
if  I  am  spared,  and  when  I  get  better, 
to  live  differently  in  time  to  come." 

She  then  asked  her  mother's  pocket 
Bible,  as  her  own  was  that  used  in  the 
school-room,  and  too  large  to  put  under 
her  pillow,  that  she  might  be  perusing 
it  when  her  strength  permitted,  and 
when  no  one  was  at  hand  to  read  to 
her.  She  took  it,  accordingly,  and 
placed  it  under  her  pillow  with  much 
apparent  satisfaction. 

"  Mamma,"  she  asked,  "  what  would 
a  new  pocket  Bible  cost  7"  "  About  five 
or  six  shillings,"  she  was  told.  "  Then, 
I  have  a  little  money  now,  and  I  shall 
keep  all  I  get  till  1  make  up  the  price." 
She  was  reminded  that  she  already 
had  a  nice  pocket  Testament,  given 
her  lately  by  a  kind  uncle;  to  which 


44        SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

she  replied,  "  O  yes,  but  there  are  so 
many  things  in  the  Old  Testament, 
too,  which  I  like  to  be  reading,  that  I 
am  anxious  for  the  other." 

In  the  course  of  this  day  she  was 
left  alone  in  the  room  for  a  little  with 
the  other  children.  She  called  them 
about  her,  when,  taking  up  some  small 
delicacies  which  had  been  provided 
for  herself,  and  were  lying  near  her, 
she  shared  them,  saying,  "  take  these 
among  you — I  have  not  much  to  give 
away  J  but  I  can  speak  to  you  of  God." 
She  then  addressed  them  seriously  on 
spiritual  things,  until  interrupted  by 
some  one  entering  the  apartment.  How 
little  did  she  or  they  think  that,  ere  an- 
other sun  should  sink  below  the  distant 
mountain  which  bounded  their  prospect 
from  the  place  where  they  were  thus 
engaged,  the  tongue  which  addressed 
them  should  be  silent  in  death,  and  the 


CHAPTER    II.  45 

spirit  whos'e  longings  it  suppressed,  be 
returned  to  the  bosom  of  its  Father ! 

Next  day  was  Wednesday,  the  11th 
April.  Her  mother  rose  early,  about 
six  o'clock,  to  relieve  the  servant,  who 
had  watched  during  the  night.  When 
she  entered  the  sick-room,  Matilda 
turned  towards  her  with  great  anima- 
tion, and  the  happiest  expression  of 
countenance. 

"  Come  away,  my  dear  mamma," 
she  exclaimed,  "  I  have  slept  well,  and 
feel  quite  refreshed — I  am  a  great  deal 
better.  We  shall  have  such  a  happy 
day — my  hearing  is  greatly  improved, 
and  we  shall  be  all  the  morning  alone. 
I  have  just  been  giving  myself  up,  spirit, 
soul,  and  body,  to  Jesus,  and  I  have 
been  repeating  my  Psalms  and  chap- 
ters ;  but  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  that 
you  may  speak  to  me,  and  that  I  may 
ask  what  I  want  to  know." 


46        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

Her  mother's  heart  rejoiced ;  for, 
from  her  appearance,  she  then,  and 
both  she  and  the  doctor,  for  a  great 
part  of  the  day,  were  encouraged  in 
the  opinion  that  the  crisis  was  past, 
and  that  her  recovery,  though  it  should 
be  tedious,  might  now,  under  Provi- 
dence, be  hopefully  looked  for. 

When  they  were  set  down  together, 
the  conversation  turned  on  the  union 
of  Christ  with  his  people — its  indisso- 
luble nature  under  all  circumstances. 
Her  soul  seemed  to  repose  on  the  doc- 
trine with  a  peace  not  to  be  understood 
but  by  those  who  experience  it.  The 
following  passage,  from  the  8th  chap- 
ter of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  as 
bearing  on  the  subject,  was  then  read  : 
"  Who  shall  separate  iis  from  the 
love  ot  Christ  ?  Shall  tribulation,  or 
distress,  or  persecution,  or  famine,  or 
nakednessi  or  peril,  or  sword  ?    Nay,  ia 


CHAPTER  II.  47 

all  these  things  we  are  more  than  con- 
querors through  him  tliat  loved  us.  For 
I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death,  nor 
life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor 
powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things 
to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any 
other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate 
us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus  our  Lord."  The  precious 
truth  seemed  as  "hidden  manna"  to 
her,  and  she  expressed  herself  comfort- 
ed and  refreshed.  How  nourishing  to 
the  hungry  soul  is  God's  word,  when 
he  has  opened  the  heart  to  receive  it  in 
faith  ;  the  soul  that  is  in  Christ,  "  seal- 
ed with  that  holy  spirit  of  promise 
which  is  the  earnest  of  its  inheritance  !" 
A  pause  took  place  in  the  conversa- 
tion, and  after  a  little  she  appeared  dull 
and  cast  down.  When  her  mother 
inquired  the  reason',  she  said,  "  I  find 
all  my  desires  to  be  comlormed  to  the 


48         SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

■will  of  God  in  vain — I  cannot  do  or  be 
what  I  wish,  or  keep  from  doing  what 
I  hate." 

She  was  still  within  the  reach  of 
"  sin's  suggestions  and  Satan's  temp- 
tations." Her  spirit,  which  aimed  at 
perfect  holiness,  and  desired  ty  soar 
above  the  polluted  atmosphere  of  a 
world  lying  in  the  wicked  one,  felt  and 
mourned  the  load  which  seemed  to 
render  its  every  effort  fruitless.  Where, 
in  such  circumstances,  could  it  look  for 
direction,  but  to  that  "  light  shining  in 
a  dark  place,"  which  reveals  the  expe- 
rience of  all  who  are  taught  of  God.  and 
tells  of  such  trials  in  their  case,  even  in 
the  near  approach  to  heaven  ?  Her 
mother  r,ead  to  her  from  the  close  of 
the  7lh  chapter  of  the  Romans:  "For 
I  know  that  in  me  (that  is  in  my  flesh) 
dwelleth  no  good  thing:  for  to  will  is 
present  with  me  ;  but  how  to  perform 


CHAPTEU    II.  49 

that  which  is  good  I  find  not.  For  the 
good  that  I  would  I  do  not:  but  the 
evil  which  I  would  not  that  I  do. 
Now  if  I  do  that  I  would  not,  i;  is  no 
more  I  that  do  it,  but  sin  that  dwelleth 
in  me.  I  find  then  a  law  that  when  I 
would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with 
me.  For  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God 
after  the  inward  man.  But  I  see  an- 
other law  in  my  members  warring 
against  the  law  of  my  mind,  and  bring- 
ing me  into  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin 
which  is  in  my  members.  O  wretch- 
ed man  thai  lam,  who  shall  deliverme 
from  the  body  of  this  death  ?  I  thank 
God,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
So  then  with  the  mind  I  myself 
serve  the  law  of  God ;  but  with  the 
Hesh  the  law  of  sin." 

"  That,"  she  cried,  "is  exactly  as  I 
feel,   mamma;"    repealing,   once    and 
again,  with  evident  comfort,  the  apos- 
4 


50         SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

tie's  declaratiorij  —  "I  thank  God 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

She  was  now  required  to  lie  still  for 
a  time,  as  some  medicine  had  been  ad- 
ministe't^d.  When  the  conversation 
was  resumed,  it  turned  on  the  tempta- 
tions to  which  we  are  exposed  from 
Satan  and  our  own  evil  hearts. 

On  this  she  remarked, —  '•  Well, 
mamma,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Satan 
tried  me  very  sorely  one  day  of  late." 

Her  mother  immediately  asked  in 
what  she  had  been  tempted  by  him. 

"  He  tried  to  make  me  think  that  it 
is  too  soon  for  me  to  give  myself  up  to 
Christ, — that  T  am  too  young, — that 
there  is  plenty  of  time  for  that  hereaf- 
ter; and  he  succeeded,  for  one  day,  to 
keep  me  from  prayer ;  but  he  has  not 
come  near  me  since." 

The  doctor  had  enjoined  quiet  and 
silence ;  her  mother  reminded  her  of 


©- 


CHAPTER    II.  51 

this.  "  O,  very  well,  mamma,"  she 
said ;  "  but  if  you  know  the  good  it  does 
to  both  my  body  and  soul,  when  we 
get  talking  alone  on  these  subjects  !" 
Her  favourite  psalms  were  read  to  her, 
and  she  lay  in  silence  for  about  two 
hours. 

When  breakfast  was  sent  up,  on 
being  raised  in  the  bed  that  she  mJght 
take  it,  a  sudden  spasm  almost  deprived 
her  of  breath.  It  produced  a  startling 
scream;  but  she  instantly  recovered, 
expressing  a  hope  that  her  mother  was 
not  alarmed,  adding,  that  she  had  her- 
self been  afraid  for  amoment,  but  now 
felt  quite  well  again.  After  a  little,  she 
expressed  a  desire  to  be  removed  to  the 
couch  on  which  she  had  lain  the  pre- 
ceding day  ;  and  when  she  had  partak- 
en of  something  to  strengthen  her  for 
the  exertion,  her  request  was  complied 
with. 


52      soimovriNG,  yet  rfjoicing. 

When  placed  comfonably,  as  she 
had  wished,  she  exclaimed, — "  O  what 
mercies  are  granted  such  an  unworthy- 
creature  as  I  am,  were  there  nothing 
more  than  the  kind  parents  God  has 
bestowed  on  me !"  Thus  she  lay  for 
considerably  above  an  hour,  until  her 
mother,  conceiving  that  she  would  be 
more  at  ease  in  the  bed,  proposed  re- 
placing her  there.  She  immediately 
assented,  saying, — "I  prefer  this  ;  but 
if  you  wish  to  remove  me,  I  am  quite 
willing."  She  was  accordingly  placed 
in  bed. 

No  sooner  was  this  accomplished, 
than  the  spasms  and  brealhlessness 
recurred  to  a  degree  much  greater  than 
they  had  previou-ly  been  experienced. 
The  alarm  for  her  state,  which  had  sub- 
sided in  her  mother's  mind,  was,  on 
witnessing  this,  painfully  renewed. 
The  medical  attendant,  too,  who  had 


CHAPTER  II.  53 

resolved  on  leaving  her.  in  course  oi 
the  forenoon,  thought  it  advisable  to 
alter  this  resol^ion.  The  state  of  the 
weather,  in  the  early  part  of  the  day, 
had  prevented  his  departure,  and  thus 
was  he,  in  Providence,  detained  for  the 
occasion  when  his  kind  services  were 
most  required. 

Abou't  two  o'clock,  she,  for  the  first 
time,  suddenly  complained  of  pain  in 
the  heart, — various  means  to  remove 
which  were  employed  in  vain.  A  slight 
alleviation  of  the  suffering  was  effect- 
ed, but  nothing  more,  and  thus  matters 
continued  for  some  time. 

Her  mother  now  looked  for  her 
death,  although  she  did  not  yet  think  it 
near.  A  day  or  two  before,  she  feared 
that  the  complaint  would  fall  upon  the 
lungs,  and  that  the  dear  sufferer,  after 
a  lingering  illness,  would  become  a 
victim    of   consumption.      She    now 


54        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

trembled  that  her  frame  might  sink 
more  speedily  before  the  power  of  the 
exhausting  ailment  ui#er  which  she 
laboured.  It  was  evident  that  she  her- 
self had,  as  yet,  no  apprehension  that 
her  life  was  in  danger. 

The  dear  child  had,  in  course  of  the 
forenoon,  been  counting  the  days  until 
my  return.  "  One — two— three — till 
Saturday,"  she  said,  "and  then  papa 
— my  dear  papa,  who  used  to  feed  me, 
— will  be  come  ! — O  how  happy  I  shall 
be  !"  But  it  was  not  the  will  of  our 
heavenly  Father,  that  we  should  ever 
meet  again  in  this  world  ;  and,  O  !  how 
little  had  this  entered  into  our  calcula- 
tions when  we  parted,  so  short  a  time 
before  ! 

Under  impressions  of  the  change 
which  now  appeared  in  Matilda's  con- 
dition, her  mother  was  seized  with 
great  anxiety.     She  conceived  it  to  be 


CHAPTER    II.  55 

her  duty  to  warn  her  of  her  true  circum- 
stances, but  from  this  the  medical  at- 
tendant strongly  dissuaded  her  in  the 
meantime.  She  inquired  earnestly 
whether  he  tliought  she  could  survive 
my  return ;  but  it  was  impossible  to 
give  any  decided  opinion.  How  trying 
that  hour  of  agony  no  language  can 
describe ! 

The  tender  patient's  suffering,  in  the 
meantime,  became  very  great ;  the  sight 
of  which  so  distressed  her  mother,  that, 
to  conceal  her  emotion,  she  was  com- 
pelled to  quit  the  room.  Matilda,  on 
observing  this,  sent  the  doctor  to  in- 
quire for  her ;  expressing  her  fear,  that, 
in  her  delicate  state,  she  should  do  her- 
self injury  by  giving  way  to  sorrow. 
It  so  evidently  increased  the  dear  child's 
suffering,  to  witness  her  mother's  dis- 
tress, that,  by  a  strong  effort,  she  sup- 
pressed the  outward  appearance  of  it, 


56        SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

and  returned  to  the  room.  When  she 
came  in,  Matilda's  face  was  turned 
away  from  the  front  of  the  bed,  so  that, 
ere  she  perceived  her,  she  had  come  up 
close  to  where  she  lay,  and  said  that 
she  had  now  come  back. 

"  O  mamma,  I  am  so  glad  of  that," 
was  the  reply.  "  I  am  surprised  to  see 
you  so  much  distressed — if  it  were 
grandmamma  ;  but  I  am  now  much  bet- 
ter, although  I  have  still  a  little  of  this 
breathlessness  ;  but,"  she  added,  "don't 
you  be  anxious,  sit  where  you  are,  for  I 
like  to  feel  your  very  body  touching 
me." 

"  O,  my  darling  Matilda,  give  yourself 
up  to  Christ." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "my  dear  mamma. 
I  am  so  oppressed  just  now — but  when 
I  get  relief." 

In  a  Utile  she  became  easier.  A  few 
drops  of  laudanum  Avere  administered  ; 


CHAPTER  II.  57 

but  it  had  scarcely  any  effect  in  allevi- 
ating the  acute  pain  Avith  which  she 
was  hopelessly  struggling. 

All  now  retired  to  take  dinner,  ex- 
cepting her  mother,  who  was  left  alone 
with  her.  She  requested  to  be  turned 
with  her  face  to  the  front  of  the  bed. 
To  aid  in  effecting  this,  her  mother 
directed  her  to  put  her  arms  around  her 
neck,  by  which  means  she  might  raise 
herself  easily  ;  but  this  she  declined,  as 
causing  unnecessary  trouble,  and  said 
that  she  could  turn  without  any  help  ; 
which  she  accordingly  did. 

So  soon  as  a  view  of  her  face  was 
obtained,  her  mother  saw  that  death 
WHS  very  near ;  the  melancholy  fact 
was  too  truly  inscribed  on  every  feature. 
Just  as  the  doctor,  who  had  been  im- 
mediately recalled,  entered  the  room, 
she  was  seized  with  a  dreadful  spasm, 
accompanied  with  most  acute  pain  at 


58         SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

heart.  With  an  imploring  look  she  asked 
for  something  to  relieve  her,  and  offered 
to  take  any  medicine,  hcvevcr  bitter. 
The  only  reply  was  the  melancholy 
comraunicatioQ,  made  with  tears,  that 
nothing  could  relieve  her. 

Her  mother  then  declared,  aside,  to 
the  medical  attendant,  that  she  could 
no  longer  defer  telling  her  child  that 
her  dissolution  was  near.  He  had 
formerly  dissuaded  from  this  course, 
with  the  humane  intention  of  sparing 
his  patient's  feelings ;  but  the  time  now 
was  evidently  short,  and  he  gave  his 
ready  assent. 

"  My  darling  Matilda,"  her  mother 
then  said  aloud  to  her,  "  Jesus  is  coming 
to  take  you  to  himself — the  hand  of 
death  is  on  you  !" 

For  a  moment  she  seemed  startled 
and  alarmed,  but  speedily  recovered  her 
composure. 


©- 


CHAPTER   n.  59 

"  Does  the  doctor  think  me  dying  !" 
she  asked. 

"Yes,  he  does,"  was  the  heart-rend- 
ing reply. 

"  How  long  do  you  think,  doctor,  I 
can  live  !" 

"  I  cannot  say  how  long,  my  dear, 
— the  God  who  gave  you  life  alone 
knows." 

On  this  she  turned  to  her  mother, 
and  with  a  look  of  earnestness  and 
solemnity,  the  most  striking,  which 
awed,  and  went  to  the  hearts  of  all 
present,  she  said, — 

"  Mamma,  I  have  concealed  nothing 
from  you — you  know  the  whole  state 
of  my  mind  and  all  about  me — do  you 
think  that  I  am  resting  on  Christ  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  was  the  answer,  "  I 
do  believe  that  you  are.  You  know 
that  you  have  often  told  me  that  you 
felt  and  were  assured  there  is  no  other 


60        SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

salvation  but  to  be  Avashtd  in  His 
blood." 

"  O  yes,  I  have  !"  she  said ;  and,  lift- 
ing up  her  hands  with  great  solemnity, 
added,  "  well,  then,  I  am  not  afraid  to 
die;  I  love  Jesus,  and  I  know  that  he 
loves  me !" 

Another  spasm  ensued,  and  she  was 
in  great  anguish.  The  other  children 
had  been  introduced  at  her  request, 
that  she  might  see  them,  but  they  were 
withdrawn,  as  the  room  became  over- 
heated. Her  mother's  grief,  which  she 
laboured  to  conceal,  compelled  her  to 
retire  for  a  few  minutes.  When  she 
again  appeared,  the  sweet  child  said, 
— "  Come  near  me,  my  dear  mamma, 
till  I  tell  you  how  much  I  love  Jesus. 
Yes,"  she  said  in  an  under  tone,  when 
her  mother  sal  down  beside  her,  "7/e.«, 
/  love  Him .'" 

When  she  had  recovered  breath  par- 


CHAPTER    II.  61 

tially,  she  said,  "  I  should  like  to  see 
the  rest — perhaps  I  could  say  some- 
thing to  them." 

The  children  were  accordingly 
brought  in.  When  they  were  all  ar- 
ranged near  her,  she  said  to  them,  with 
a  tone  and  manner  full  of  affection  and 
pathos,  "  Children,  I  am  going  to  die  ; 
and  I  am  not  afraid  to  die ;  for  I 
know  that  Jesus  loves  me,  and  I  love 
him.  O!  see  that  you  be  good  child- 
ren, and  love  him  too," 

The  terrors  of  death  had  often  been 
the  subject  of  conversation  with  them, 
in  days  of  health,  when  he  was  con- 
templated at  a  great  distance;  and  the 
power  of  Christ  to  take  away  his  sting, 
so  that  believers  should  be  kept  in  safe- 
ty in  the  last  struggle,  they  had  also 
often  heard  of;  and  in  the  testimony 
which  she  now  bore  to  the  faithfulness 
of  the  Saviour,  and  her  freedom  from 


62        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

fear  through  his  grace,  she  had  refer- 
ence to  all  that  they  had  once  heard  up- 
on the  subject,  and  thus  she  desired  to 
"  set  to  her  seal  that  God  is  true." 

The  doctor  after  this  expressed  a  de- 
sire that  the  children  should  be  removed. 
As  they  were  retiring  from  the  room, 
she  called  back  the  youngest  of  her  sis- 
ters, who  had  been  present,  and,  as  if 
she  feared  her  first  address  had  not 
been  comprehended,  she  repeated  it, 
saying,— 

"  Maggy,  I  am  going  to  die — and 
they  will  put  me  in  a  big  black  hole — 
but  I  am  not  afraid,  for  I  love  Jesus, 
and  see  you  that  you  will  love  him  too 
Remember  your  Catechism."  She 
had  not  yet  learned  to  read  the  Scrip- 
tures. 

She  then  said  to  them  all,  as  they 
lingered  about  the  door  and  wept, 
"  Don't  cry  for  me, — farewell." 


CHAPTER    II.  63 

The  servants  on  this  came  into  the 
room,  when  she  addressed  them  much 
in  the  same  strain,  informing  them  that 
she  was  dying  ;  that  she  had  no  fear ; 
and  that  her  confidence  arose  from  de- 
pending upon  Christ  alone.  One  of 
them  who,  she  knew,  did  not  under- 
stand English,  she  addressed  in  Gaelic, 
solemnly  warning  and  entreating  her 
and  all  of  them  to  go  to  Christ. 

When  they  had  quitted  the  room, 
her  mother  asked,  "  What  shall  I  say 
to  your  dear  papa  from  you  when  he 
comes  home  ?" 

After  a  short  pause,  during  which 
she  was  much  affected,  she  replied 
with  great  tenderness  of  manner,  "  You 
will  tell  him  that  I  think  I  am  united  to 
Christ ;  that  I  love  .Tesus,  and  know 
he  loves  me." 

"  Will  I  give  him  your  love  ?"  "  O 
yes,"  was   the  reply.     She  then   said. 


64         SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

"  Mamma,  I  am  not  sorry  to  leave  the 
world,  but  I  am  sorry  to  leave  you 
all;"  on  uttering  which,  her  heart 
seemed  bursting.  The  last,  the  only 
tie,  which  bound  her  to  earth  was 
being  broken.  The  enemy  could  not 
destroy  her,  but  this  one  opportunity 
more  was  left  to  inflict  a  passing  wound 
ere  she  entered  into  endless  joy.  The 
wound  was  given,  but  it  was  as  quickly 
cured.  Her  "  Friend"  was  at  hand, 
and  peace  could  not  be  distant. 

"  You  remember,  my  dear,"  her 
mother  said,  "  the  chapter  I  read  you 
lately,  about  Christ's  second  coming, 
and  how  we  shall  all  meet  then  ?" 

She  was  instantly  comforted,  and 
her  countenance  brightened, — "  O 
yes,"  she  answered,  "we  shall  all  meet 
again." 

A  dreadful  spasm  immediately  en- 
sued.    "  Oh !"  she  cried,  after   a  short 


CHAPTER  n.  65 

interval,  "  I  am  in  great  pain — how  I 
desire  that  He  would  come  and  take 
me  to  himself!" 

After  a  few  moments'  silence  she 
made  a  sign  with  her  finger,  saying, 
"  Doctor  I"  as  if  wishing  to  speak  to 
him.  On  his  approaching  she  could 
only  add  '■'■speech — less;"  and  with- 
out a  single  throe  breathed  her  last; 
her  redeemed  soul  quitting  its  frail  tab- 
ernacle, and  entering  into  the  joy  of 
its  Lord.  Her  mother  laid  her  hand 
on  her  eyes,  and  they  were  closed  on 
this  world  for  ever  ! 

The  foregoing  notes  of  Matilda's 
conversations  are  given  strictly,  as  far 
as  possible,  in  her  own  words  ;  but 
they  constitute  no  more  than  speci- 
mens of  the  topics  on  which  she  expa- 
tiated— of  her  views  of  divine  truth — 
and  her  experience  as  a  follower  of  the 
Lamb.  They  are  a  mother's  imperfect 
5 


66         SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

recollections  of  what  passed  when 
death  was  not  thought  to  be  in  the 
cup,  associated  with  anticipations  which 
then  prevailed,  or  were  cherished  in 
opposition  to  secret  forebodings,  of  fu- 
ture days  of  sanctified  delight  in  the 
newly  discovered  tie,  which  she  felt 
uniting  their  hearts,  as  together  "  bound 
up  in  the  bundle  of  life  with  the  Lord." 
But  however  imperfect,  they  testify  in 
language,  sufficiently  distinct,  to  the 
power  of  divine  grace :  "  Even  so,  Fa- 
ther, for  so  it  seemed  good  in  thy  sight." 
In  its  simplest  view,  the  saving  work 
of  the  Spirit  consists  in  convincing  of 
sin,  and  leading  the  soul  under  this  ope- 
ration, to  an  implicit  and  exclusive  re- 
liance upon  Christ  for  salvation.  There 
is  a  clear  perception  of  the  evil  lament- 
ed, and  also  the  humiliation  which  this 
must  ever  induce,  connected  with  a 
most  hearty  concurrence  in  God's  ap- 


CHAPTER    II.  67 

pointed  way  of  deliverance — a  joyful 
acceptance  of  the  truth  that  reveals  it 
— and  a  stedfast  recrarding  of  the  ob- 
ject of  fiiith,  Christ,  for  all  the  soul  re- 
quires. Be  the  course  of  the  believer 
long  or  shoit,  in  passing  through  this 
wilderness,  such  is  his  experience  in 
the  beginning  and  to  the  end  of  his 
pilgrimage,  embracing  continued  dis- 
coveries of  his  own  unworthiness  oa 
the  one  hand,  and  of  the  mercy  of 
God  in  Christ  on  the  other,  his  life 
beirig  a  life  o^  faith  in  Hira  "  who  loved  •■ 
him  and  gave  himself  for  him."  And 
be  he  young  or  old,  under  the  influence 
of  this  knowledge  of  himself  as  a  sin- 
ner, and  of  God  as  his  Saviour,  sin  is 
crucified,  and  spiritual  graces  grow  and 
abound  ;  he  lives  to  Christ  and  he  dies 
in  the  Lord.  Judging  by  this  rule,  we 
believe  our  dear  child  was  born  of  the 
Spirit,  and  that  she  now  inherits  the 


68         SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

promises.  A  sense  of  sin  humbled 
her  in  the  dust,  but  a  knowledge  of 
Christ  produced  the  lively  hope  which 
belongs  only  to  them  that  are  his.  She 
lived,  yet  not  she,  but  Christ  lived  in 
her. 

To  what  but  to  the  effectual  and 
saving  operations  of  the  Eternal  Spirit 
can  be  ascribed  the  graces  which  she 
exhibited — the  peace,  patience,  love, 
joy,  longings  for  conformity  to  the  will 
of  God,  and  for  separation  from  the 
world  in  heart  and  in  practice  ?  The 
carnal  mind,  which  is  enmity  against 
Him,  never  was  adorned  with  fruit  like 
this.  And  to  what  shall  we  ascribe  the 
victory  over  death  vouchsafed  to  her  ? 
Never,  in  any  sick-room  did  his  pres- 
ence cause  less  dismay,  though  he 
came,  too,  at  a  time  that  we  thought 
not  of.  It  was  not  that  his  terrors 
were  veiled,  for  the  address  to  her  little 


CHAPTER    TI.  69 

sister  showed  that  the  noisoraeness  of 
the  grave  was  before  the  eyes  of  the 
youthful  sufferer — "  to  corruption,"  she 
said,  "  thou  art  my  father,  and  to  the 
worm,  thou  art  my  mother  and  my  sis- 
ter." It  was  not  that,  by  powers  of 
reasoning  or  philosophic  conclusions, 
she  had  quelled  the  tumult  of  nature, 
shrinking  from  the  fearful  contest — 
such  defensive  armour  she  had  none. 
Neither  did  the  insensibility  of  delirium 
conduct  her,  as  in  a  troubled  dream, 
beyond  the  precincts  of  life  ;  for  never 
was  even  the  victim  of  a  violent  end 
more  vividly  conscious,  until  the  inflic- 
tion of  the  fatal  stroke,  than  she.  It 
was  not  boldness  of  character  causing 
her  to  repel  fear,  for  she  was  constitu- 
tionally timid;  nor  ignorance,  to  rest 
as  a  thick  cloud  on  the  world  of  spir- 
its, concealing  the  tribunal  at  which  she 
was  about  to  appear ;  for,  versed  in  the 


70        SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

letter  of  the  Scriptures,  she  kaew  the 
"  terror  of  the  Lord."  Nor,  finally, 
was  it  consciousness  of  innocence,  or 
reflections  on  a  well-spent  life,  opera- 
ting as  a  deceitful  opiate  ;  for  her  con- 
victions were  all  of  sin.  How,  then, 
came  death  to  be  despoiled  of  his  ter- 
rors ?  Purely  through  faith,  which  is 
of  grace,  sovereign  and  efficacious — 
faith  in  Hina  who  hath  taken  away  the 
sting  of  the  last  enemy  for  his  redeem- 
ed, and  who  can  give  not  only  protec- 
tion from  his  power,  but  deliverance 
also  from  his  fear.  As  a  little  child  she 
had  received  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  and 
He  who  carries  the  lambs  in  His  bo- 
som, exalted  her  above  the  darkness 
and  alarm  that  have  many  a  time  sur- 
rounded the  death-bed  of  aged  Chris- 
tians, and  conveyed  her  thus,  in  perfect 
peace,  to  those  mansions  where  are  the 
"small  and  great,"  and  where  the  song 


CHAPTER  11.  71 

of  Moses  and  of  the  Lamb  is  for  ever 
sung. 

Had  she  been  spared  in  the  world, 
she  would,  doubtless,  have  been  ex- 
posed to  many  temptations.  She  would 
have  heard,  and  read,  and  seen  what 
might  bewilder,  perplex,  or  mislead. 
Her  musical  talent,  remarkable  in  one 
of  her  age,  might  have  proved  a  snare. 
Under  evil  influences  she  might  again 
and  again  have  been  turned  aside,  and 
painful  experiences,  even  falls  with 
bruises  and  wounds,  might  have  been 
connected  with  restorations  to  the  sim- 
plicity of  faith,  and  joy  in  the  Lord. 
Preserved  by  Him  who  had  called  her, 
the  journey  Avould  have  been  safe,  how- 
ever beset  with  trials  and  sorrows,  and 
all  must  have  been  well  at  last ;  but 
who  can  say  th^t  her  life  would  have 
so  testified  to  the  sovereignty  as  well 
as  the  power  of  divine  grace,  or  that 


72  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

her  departure  would  have  beea  so  tri- 
umphant !  It  pleased  the  Lord  to 
bring  her  by  a  near  path  across  the 
barren  desert,  and  to  carry  her,  as  upon 
eagles'  wings,  over  the  swellings  of 
Jordan — "  for  his  is  the  kingdom,  and 
the  power,  and  the  glory." 

During  my  short  absence  I  had  re- 
ceived regular  intimations  of  Matilda's 
state  of  health.  The  accounts  were 
all  favourable,  but  not  such  as  to  dispel 
anxiety.  Earnestly  longing  to  be  re- 
stored to  my  place  by  her  sick-bed,  I 
left  Glasgow,  on  my  way  home,  late  on 
the  Monday  evening,  after  the  services 
of  the  thanksgiving  day.  My  route  was 
circuitous,  as  I  intended  to  pass  a  single 
day  with  a  dear  brother,  who  had  been 
recently  visited  by  the  heaviest  of  all 
domestic  afflictions.  This  accomplish- 
ed, I  proceeded  on  my  journey.  Within 
two  days'  travel  of  home,  viz.,  on  the 


CHAPTER  11.  73 

Friday,  I  received  a  letter  which  had 
^een  written  there  on  Monday.  It 
was  not  so  favourable  as  former  ones  ; 
but  had  not  my  mind  already  begun  to 
be  filled  with  evil  forebodings,  it  could 
not  have  excited  great  alarm. 

Whoever  is  acquainted  with  the 
tumult  of  a  Highland  steam-boat,  during 
a  dark  and  boisterous  night,  will  be 
able  to  judge  how  ill  suited  to  my  state 
of  mind  were  the  circumstances  by 
which  I  was  surrounded  ;  but  even  in 
such  as  those,  the  soul  may  have  com- 
munion with  Him  whose  presence  can 
give  peace,  and  "  keep  the  heart  and 
mind."  I  looked  eagerly  for  the  morn- 
ing ;  for  I  expected,  soon  after  its  arrival, 
to  be  landed  at  a  point  little  more  than 
forty  miles  from  home,  and  calculated 
that,  by  the  good  hand  of  God  upon  me, 
I  should,  ere  the  day  terminated,  find 
myself  again  in  the  midst  of  my  family. 


74         SOKROWINGj    YET    REJOICING. 

My  anticipations  of  the  tidings  which 
the  conveyance,  by  which  I  was  to  tra- 
vel, might  bring  me  were  various  ;  but 
once  only  did  a  fear  pass  across  my 
mind  that  I  should  not  find  Matilda 
alive,  and  the  suggestion  was  banished 
as  an  unwarranted  intrusion.  Long 
before  we  reached  the  shore,  my  eye 
had  sought  the  conveyance  which  I  ex- 
pected to  be  in  waiting  ;  and  at  last  I 
discovered  it  in  charge  of  a  pious  school- 
master from  our  parish.  His  presence 
startled  me,  but  I  exf^lained  the  circum- 
stance to  myself,  by  recollecting  that 
our  servant  must  have  been  busily 
occupied  with  the  spring  labour;  yet 
the  explanation  was  not  satisfactory.  I 
leapt  ashore,  and  ran  up  to  him.  "  How 
is  all  at  home  ?"  was  my  anxious 
inquiry.  "  Well,"  was  the  answer,  and 
I  was  presented  with  a  letter  superscrib- 
ed by  my  dear  wife.     It  was   sealed 


CHAPTER  n.  75 

with  black,  but  so  were  all  the  others 
I  had  received  from  her  since  my  de- 
parture, lor  we  were  in  mourning  for 
my  brother's  wife.  "  How  is  Matilda  ?" 
There  was  hesitation,  and  a  look  which 
did  not  relieve  me — still  I  expected  to 
hear  no  more  than  that  she  was  beyond 
hope  of  recovery  ;  but  the  answer  came 
at  last,—"  She  is  dead  !" 

Why  should  I  obtrude  on  the  reader 
the  anguish  of  that  moment,  and  the 
heavy  grief  of  that  tedious  day.  After 
more  than  thirteen  years  of  uninterrup- 
ted domestic  prosperity,  death  had  at 
length  entered  our  dwelling,  and  I  was 
now  returning  to  a  sorrowing  family,  to 
whom  I  had  never  before  returned  but 
joyful  to  them  rejoicing.  But  I  was 
in  some  measure  made  to  hear  the  voice, 
— "  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God," 
and  enabled  to  respond, — "  What!  shall 
we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  God, 


76         SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

and  shall  we  not  receive  evill"  ll 
was  late  when  I  arrived  at  the  manse ; 
and  I  entered  my  wife's  apartment  ere 
she  knew  I  had  come.  Friends  who 
were  present  retired,  and  we  were  left 
alone  to  mingle  our  tears  in  all  the 
consciousness  of  "bitterness  for  a  first- 
born." The  grace  vouchsafed  my  be- 
loved partner  had  been  wonderful  ;  and 
she  had  partaken  plentifully  of  the 
mercy  and  faithfulness  of  our  cove- 
nanted God.  She  had  been  permitted 
the  high  privilege  of  ministering  to  botli 
the  soul  and  body  of  our  departed  child 
in  her  latter  end,  and  of  witnessing  the 
triumphant  close  of  that  solemn  scene. 
To  me  this  was  denied ;  and  many 
painful  thoughts  filled  my  mind,  in 
connection  with  this  appointment  ol 
the  Sovereign  Disposer  of  all  events. 
But  if  separated  from  the  death-bed  of 
one  I  loved  so  tenderly,  it  was  in  the 


CHAPTER   II.  77 

path  of  duty  ;  and  though  the  trial  was 
felt,  I  was,  in  a  measure,  enabled  to  say 
— "  It  is  well."  We  were  not  yet  out 
of  the  furnace  :  many  such  duties  as  I 
lamented  not  being  permitted  to  perform 
for  dear  Matilda,  awaited  me  ;  and  had 
the  occasions  been  then  foreseen  which 
were  about  to  call  for  those,  how  altered 
in  character,  or  how  subdued,  must  have 
been  our  present  grief!  It  is  well  to 
remember,  that  "  inconsolable  sorrow 
in  such  cases"  as  ours,  "  however  ad- 
mired by  the  world,  is  rebellion  against 
the  appointment  of  God,  and  the  off- 
spring of  unbelief;  that  grief  should  no 
more  be  indulged  and  cherished^  than 
our  anger  and  other  passions."*  But 
how  gracious  is  the  Lord  !  The  rod 
was  in  his  hand ;  yet  he  afflicted  not 
willingly.  The  array  of  coming  chas- 
tisements was  concealed  from  us,  and 
*  Scott. 


78        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

each  stripe,  as  it  fell,  was  preceded  by 
no  terrors.  Verily,  we  may  sing  ot 
"mercy"  with  ''judgment." 

Matilda's  mortal  remains  were  laid  in 
the  "narrow  house  appointed  for  all 
living"  on  Tuesday,  the  17th  April,  in 
the  blessed  hope  of  a  glorious  resur- 
rection. Death  had  made  little  change 
in  her  appearance.  For  her  years  she 
was  naturally  tall,  and  during  her  ill- 
ness she  had  grown  much.  As  I  hung 
over  her,  on  the  evening  of  ray  arrival 
at  home,  and  the  light  which  I  held  in 
my  hand  fell  upon  her  features,  she 
seemed  as  in  a  peaceful  sleep.  Her 
lips,  though  shrivelled,  retained  the 
redness  of  life,  and  were  not  so  com- 
pressed as  to  conceal  her  teeth,  which 
appeared  between.  Her  dark  eye-lash- 
es and  pencilled  eye-brows,  contrasted 
strongly  with  the  marble  whiteness  of 
her  forehead ;   and  I  felt,  amidst  the 


CHAPTER  II.  79 

Stillness  of  the  chamber,  as  if  she  were 
about  to  awaken  from  her  slumber,  and 
to  turn  on  me  the  full  black  eye,  beam- 
ing with  intelligence,  which  I  had  so 
often  looked  on.  Alas  !  the  iUusion 
soon  vanished.  "  Dust  thou  art,  and 
unto  dust  shall  thou  return,"  was  in- 
scribed throughout  on  the  motionless 
frame  which  lay  before  me  ;  and  when 
I  reflected  on  her  early  youth  and  ad- 
vanced attainments, — the  health, — th? 
sprightly  vivacity, — the  happy  disposi- 
tion for  which  she  had  been  distin- 
guished, I  could  only  exclaim — "What, 
hath  sin  wrought !"  "  Thanks  be  unto 
God  who  giveth  us  the  victory  through 
lesus  Christ  our  Lord  !" 


CHAPTER  III. 


"  And  Thou  my  fiiiiitiiig  soul  with  strength 
Didst  strengthen  inwardly." 


The  state  of  the  other  children  excit- 
ed no  apprehension  in  our  minds.  The 
older  ones  appeared  almost  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  the  epidemic  ;  and  as 
we  looked  for  the  speedy  approach  of 
warm  weather,  which  would  enable  us 
to  remove  them  for  the  benefit  of  change 
of  air,  no  alarm  possessed  us  on  their 
account.  They  were  confined  to  the 
house,  indeed,  the  severity  of  the  sea- 
son being  remarkable ;  but  this  was  their 
only  restriction.  Our  youngest,  Jessie, 
just  two  years  old,  was  evidently  the 
most  weakly  j  but  she  was  not  con- 


CHAPTER   HI.  81 

fined  to  bed.  Her  case  appeared  in 
some  points  to  resemble  Matilda's  ;  yet, 
as  she  had  none  of  the  spasmodic  affec- 
tion which  we  associated  with  the  fa- 
tal termination  of  her  sister's  ailment, 
and  little  of  her  weakness, — moreover, 
as  she  every  day  was  carried  about  in 
the  nurse's  arms,-  and  often  displayed 
the  cheerfulness  of  health,  no  one  con- 
ceived her  to  be  in  danger.  The  med- 
ical attendant,  too,  had  ceased  his  vis- 
its, being  equally  at  ease  with  ourselves. 
That  her  convalescence  was  less  ad- 
vanced than  the  others,  we  ascribed  to 
her  aversion  to  medicine,  and  her  re- 
sistance, only  occasionally  overcome, 
to  the  necessary  remedies  for  the  re- 
moval of  the  fever  which  still  hung 
about  her. 

On  Friday  of  the  week  on  which  we 
had  committed  Matilda  to  kindred  dust, 
Jessie     appeared     greatly     improved. 


82        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

We  were  encouraged  in  our  cheerful 
anticipations,  and  our  minds  were  at 
rest,  so  far  as  they  coukl  be,  under  our 
recent  wound.  We  still  had  si's  sweet 
chUdren ;  and  though  we  mourned  her 
departure  who  had  been  so  bright  a  pat- 
tern to  them  that  remained,  we  knew 
that  God  had  taken  her : — she  had  gone 
to  Christ,  which  was  "  far  better"  than 
to  be  with  us. 

On  Saturday  morning  it  was  thought 
that  an  unfavourable  change  was  per- 
ceptible in  our  little  darling,  not  so 
marked,  however,  as  much  to  increase 
our  anxiety  for  her.  It  Avas  natural 
that  we  should  now  be  easily  alarmed, 
and  our  fears,  in  so  far  as  they  existed, 
were  ascribed  to  this.  Such  means, 
however,  as  were  thought  advisable  un- 
der circumstances  were  employed,  and 
we  hoped  that  towards  evening  their 
good  effects  would  be  evident. 


CHAPTER   III.  83 

During  the  forenooa  I  was  busily- 
employed  ia  my  study.  Soon  after 
mid-day,  my  wife  came  to  me  and  said, 
that  Jessie  did  not  seem  to  improve. 
She  was  anxious,  but  did  not  fear  dan- 
ger, and  I  encouraged  her  as  I  best 
could.  About  two  o'clock,  I  was  call- 
ed to  the  nursery  to  see  our  sweet  pa- 
tient, for  she  seemed  to  get  worse. 
Then,  indeed,  I  perceived  an  alteration 
which  justified,  as  I  feared,  more  than 
the  anxiety  I  had  endeavoured  to  allay. 
She  was  in  the  nurse's  arms  as  usual, 
but  appeared  much  oppressed,  and  evi- 
dently was  in  great  pain.  I  did  not 
think  that  any  of  those  about  her  had 
perceived  her  danger  ;  but  the  suffering 
they  had  seen  Matilda  endure,  and  I 
had  not,  diminished  their  alarm  under 
the  attack.  We  soon  began  to  dread 
that  the  powers  of  life  were  sinking : 
a  warm  bath  was  instantly  prepared. 


84        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

Her  illness  increased  rapidly — a  little 
wine  and  water  was  administered  ;  but 
we  soon  too  clearly  saw  that  the  hand 
of  death  was  on  our  tender  iniant. 
We  were  not  prepared  for  this  shock  ; 
but  "  the  Hope  of  Israel, — the  Saviour 
thereof  in  the  day  of  trouble,"  did  not 
forsake  us.  To  Him  she  had  been  de- 
voted by  us  ever  since  He  gave  her 
being;  and  we  now  kneeled  down,  and 
together  called  on  His  holy  name  in 
her  behalf.  Soul  and  body  were  com- 
mended to  Him  in  the  everlasting  cov- 
enant, and  Christ  with  all  his  benefits 
accepted  by  us,  as  her  parents,  for  her. 
The  moment  was  one  of  deep  emotion 
and  awful  solemnity.  We  felt  the 
presence,  and  in  this  providence  heard 
the  voice,  of  Him  who  "  openeth  and 
no  man  shutteth,"  and  in  whose  hands 
alone  are  "  the  keys  of  hell  and  of 
death."     How  striking  his  sovereignty, 


CHAPTER   III.  85 

and  vaio  as  well  as  sinful,  were  oppo- 
sition to  his  will;  "  for  He  giveth  not 
account  of  any  of  his  matters."  We 
arose  from  our  knees,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, after  a  brief  struggle  with  the 
last  enemy,  the  spirit  of  this  gentle 
child  had  returned  to  God  who  gave  it. 
This  new  blow,  so  unexpectedly  and 
at  so  short  an  interval  succeeding  our 
other  bereavement,  was  felt  as  a  sore 
affliction  :  "  The  clouds  had  returned 
after  the  rain."  We  had  watched  for 
the  morning,  and  believed  its  dawu  had 
broke ;  but  the  shades  of  night  had 
come  again,  and  they  seemed  to  brood 
on  us  more  deeply  than  ever.  Yet, 
amidst  the  darkness,  the  word  of  God 
shone  like  the  pillar  of  fire  in  sight  of 
the  camp  of  Israel,  How  precious  the 
experience  of  His  people  in  every  age, 
recorded  there,  and  presented  to  the  eye 
of  faith  !     How  suited  to  us  the  history 


86         SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

of  patient  Job, — the  repeated  infliction 
of  evil  in  such  rapid  succession, — the 
answer  made  to  every  unbelieving  sug- 
gestion, whether  from  within  or  from 
without, — the  manifestation  of  human 
weakness  on  the  one  hand,  with  that 
of  divine  grace,  forbearance,  and  power, 
on  the  other;  and  the  "end  of  the 
Lord"  in  all  the  providence !  Hard 
thoughts  were  suppressed  and  silenced  ; 
and  amidst  our  sorrow  we  were  soothed 
and  invigorated  by  the  consideration, 
that  the  same  mercy  which  upheld  him 
now  sustained  us,  and  that  in  our  great 
weakness  the  strength  of  the  Lord 
should  be  more  signally  perfected. 

The  cheering  circumstances  of  Ma- 
tilda's end  were  wanting  in  that  of  our 
youngest  child ;  but  believing  her  to 
be  in  the  covenant,  as  the  offspring  of 
parents  who  professed  to  have  accepted 
Christ  for  themselves  and  their  child- 


CHAPTER  III.  87 

ren,  we  looked  upon  her  as  taken  away 
from  the  evil  to  come,  and  as  called 
thus  speedily  to  join  her  glorified  sister 
in  the  realms  of  bliss !  Did  we  wish 
them  back  again?  Ah,  no!  Ave  could 
not;  but  we  entered  into  David's  expe- 
rience, when  "  he  arose  from  the  earth, 
and  washed  and  anointed  himself,  and 
changed  his  apparel,  and  came  into 
the  house  of  the  Lord,  and  worship- 
ped," saying  of  his  departed  child,  "  I 
shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return 
to  me." 

Our  recollections  of  the  gentle  infant 
thus  removed  from  us,  were  all  sooth- 
ing and  pleasant.  She  had  just  begun, 
with  her  artless  prattle,  to  delight  her 
mother's  heart,  and  she  was  the  object 
of  the  constant  caresses  of  her  brothers 
and  sisters.  It  was  grateful  to  our 
feelings  to  recall  her  stillness  and  so- 
lemnity of  manner  at  worship,  and  the 


88        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

regularity  wiih  which  she,  evening  and 
morning,  kneeled  down  to  lisp  her  in- 
fant prayers.  Her  natural  timidity  and 
tenderness  of  feeling  seemed  to  us  now 
to  have  foretold,  that  she  was  not  for 
the  storms  of  the  world,  and  we  could 
not  mourn  when  we  thought  that  she 
would  never  encounter  them.  Matil- 
da's death  seemed  to  open  up  a  train  of 
thought,  if  we  may  so  speak  of  one  of 
such  tender  age,  to  which  she  had  be- 
fore been  a  stranger.  If  she  had  heard 
of  death,  certainly  no  idea  had  been 
associated  with  the  terra  ;  no  suspicion 
existed  in  her  mind  of  the  evil  which 
it  expressed.  She  and  her  younger 
brother  seemed  amazed  at  the  sorrow 
that  pervaded  the  family,  but  they 
could  not  partake  of  it.  It  seemed  to 
surprise  her  especially,  that  Matilda 
was  not  now  attended  as  she  used  to 
be  ;  and  she  constantly  urged  the  nurse 


CHAPTER  HI.  89 

to  carry  her  to  the  room  where  she  lay, 
and  there  never  tired  to  look  in  the 
face  of  the  dead.  We  were  much  af- 
fected with  this  in  all  the  children. 
They  seldom  remained  long  away  from 
the  chamber  of  death ;  they  would 
themselves  remove  the  cloth  from  their 
sister's  face,  and  gaze  in  solemn  atti- 
tude, recalUng  ihe  words  she  had  spo- 
ken to  them,  and  all  their  happy  inter- 
course together.  ''  Poor  Tildy  !"  Jes- 
sie used  to  say,  "poor  Tildy — not  well 
— Tildy  sleep — soon  well — Poor  Til- 
dy !"  Her  only  impression  seemed  to 
be,  that  death  was  a  long  sleep,  and 
she  every  day  expected,  as  we  thought, 
that  Matilda  was  to  awake,  and  be  to 
her  what  she  had  wont  to  be.  And  is 
not  death  a  blessed  sleep  to  the  child 
of  God,  and  will  not  such  as  "  sleep  in 
Jesus"  have  a  glorious  awakening? 
"  Sin  reigned"  in   this   sweet  infant 


90         SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

"unto  death  ;"  but  were  we  not  war- 
ranted to  believe  that  "  grace  also 
reigned"  in  her  "  through  rishteousness, 
unto  eternal  life,  by  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord  1"  Or,  did  we  err  in  following 
her  too,  with  the  eye  of  faith,  into  His 
presence,  who  had  seemed  to  say  to 
us,  "  Suffer  these  little  children  to  come 
unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not  ?" 

On  Saturday,  the  21st  April,  Jessie 
died.  Next  day  I  preached  from  Rev. 
vii.  13 — 15,  "  What  are  these  which 
are  arrayed  in  white  robes  ?  and 
whence  came  they  1  And  I  said  unto 
him.  Sir,  thou  knowest.  And  he  said 
unto  me.  These  are  they  which  came 
out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have  wash- 
ed their  robes,  and  made  them  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Therefore 
are  they  before  the  throne  of  God,  and 
serve  him  day  and  night  in  his  tem- 
ple."    On  the  preceding  Sabbath  I  had 


CHAPTER    III.  91 

not  preached,— a  valued  friend  supplied 
my  place,  and  I  now  endeavoured  to 
improve  the  affliclive  dispensations  in 
our  family  to  a  sympathising  and  deep- 
ly affected  congregalioo. 

On  the  25lh,  she  was  interred,  being 
laid  on  Matilda's  left  hand,  the  coffins 
touching  each  other,  both  being  man- 
tled by  the  same  turf! 

But  our  trial  was  not  yet  past.  The 
Lord  still  sat  as  a  refiner,  and  the  fur- 
nace had  not  hitherto  been  heated  as  it 
was  His  sovereign  and  gracious  will  it 
should  be.  We  had  already  lost  our 
youngest  as  well  as  our  oldest,  and 
again  we  were  about  to  be  called  upon 
to  part  with  a  youngest,  also  in  the 
tender  years  of  infancy. 

Christian  parents  have  consolations  of 
a  peculiar  kind,  in  the  death  of  their 
infant  offspring.  They  are  in  the  cov- 
enant  with  themselves,  and  have,  in 


92  SORROWING,  VET  REJOICING. 

secret,  and  before  men,  been  solemnly 
dedicated  to  their  Father  in  heaven. 
Christ  is  thus  iheir  Head  and  Saviour. 
"  Of  such,"  he  declared,  "  is  the  king- 
dom of  heaven."  Commenting  on 
this  passage,  Mr.  Scott  remarks,  "  The 
expression  may  also  intimate,  that  the 
kingdom  of  heavenly  glory  is  greatly 
constituted  of  such  as  die  in  their  in- 
fancy. Infants  are  as  capable  of  regen- 
eration as  grown  persons;  and  there  is 
ground  to  conclude,  that  all  those  who 
have  not  lived  to  commit  actual  trans- 
gressions, though  they  have  shared  in 
the  effects  of  the  first  Adam's  offence, 
will  also  share  in  the  blessings  of  the 
second  Adam's  gracious  covenant, — 
without  their  personal  faith  and  obedi- 
ence, but  not  without  the  regenerating 
influence  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ, 
Whilst  we  teach  our  children,  as  they 
become  capable  of  learning,  how  ready 


CHAPTER    III,  93 

the  condescending  Son  of  God  is  to  an- 
swer their  lisping  petitions,  and  to  ac- 
cept of  them  as  his  disciples  ;  we  may 
be  well  satisfied  that  he  has  taken  to 
his  heavenly  kingdom  such  of  them  as 
have  died  in  infancy  ;  for,  doubtless, 
the  covenant  is  made  with  the  believer 
for  the  good  of  this  part  of  his  off- 
spring in  an  especial  manner.  If, 
then,  Christian  parents  have  their  be- 
loved branches  cropt in  the  bud,  they 
cannot,  surely,  have  cause  to  complain ; 
or  to  think  much  of  their  pain,  care,  or 
trouble,  when  they  are  made  the  instru- 
ments of  God  in  raising  up  children  to 
him,  who  may  inherit  his  everlasting 
kingdom." 

The  ordinance  of  baptism,  of  which 
such  children  have  been  partakerg, 
speaks  comfort.  Previous  to  its  ad- 
ministration, indeed, they  are  included, 
by  virtue  o(  their  parents'  faith,  in  the 


94         SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

visible  Church  of  Christ,  as  being  ia 
covenant  with  him ;  but  baptism, 
which  publicly  declares  that  they  are  so, 
and  which  is  then  the  sign  of"  promis- 
ed blessings,  is,  in  the  hour  of  death, 
contemplated  as  the  seal,  or  assurance 
on  God's  part,  that  he  will  accomplish, 
in  their  experience,  all  he  has  promised. 
Their  safety  is  not  left  as  a  doubtful 
thing.  The  great  covenant  is,  in  this 
solemn  ordinance,  unfolded;  it  is  open- 
ed up  more  fully  than  many  kings  and 
wise  men  saw  it,  for  the  reception  of  a 
Christian's  child.  That  child,  though 
an  infant  of  days,  is  baptized  with  the 
same  solemn  formula  as  an  apostle ; 
and  the  Triune  God  of  salvation  re- 
veals himself  in  his  glory  to  build  the 
•vyalls  of  Zion, — to  inset  the  little  stones 
as  well  as  the  great ;  a  solemn  attestation 
to  the  value  of  the  child,  and  an  assur- 
ance that  its  safety  is  fully  provided  for. 


CHAPTER   III.  95 

May  not  Christian  parents  come 
short  in  privilege,  by  failing  to  plead 
with  sufficient  earnestness  the  benefits 
of  this  ordinance  in  behalf  of  their 
children,  whilst  they  are  spared  to 
them;  and  may  they  not  come  short  in 
duty,  by  failing  to  appeal  to  it  when 
they  address  them  on  spiritual  and 
eternal  things  1  What  an  appeal  had 
those  parents  who  brought  their  tender 
little  ones  to  Christ,  to  that  event,  in 
after  years,  in  dealing  with  them ! 
How  forcibly  might  they  relate  to  them 
the  solemn  circumstances  of  that  affect- 
ing occasion;  their  rejection  by  the 
disciples,  and  Christ's  displeasure  on 
this  account ;  his  condescension  and 
tender  kindness ;  his  taking  them  up 
in  his  arms,  putting  his  hands  upon 
them,  and  blessing  them!  How  mi^ht 
they  speak  of  the  assurance  thus  afford- 
ed that  He  would  redeem  the  pledge  ot 


96        SORROWING,    YET    KEJOICING. 

favour  given  thf-ra. — of  the  encourage- 
ment to  pray  to  him,  to  rely  on  his 
grace,  to  trust  his  providence,  lo  wait 
his  coming  !  If  He  regarded  them  with 
such  tenderness  on  earth,  must  not  His 
intercessions  on  their  behalf  be  sure  in 
heaven, — in  health,  under  the  pressure 
of  affliction,  and  amidst  the  agonies  of 
death  !  And  how  irresistible  the  claim 
on  tho>e  favoured  children,  to  fear  the 
name,  to  love  the  law,  and  seek  the 
glory  of  that  gracious  and  divine  Sa- 
viour,— that  holy,  that  good  man,  who 
had  bestowed  so  precious  a  benedic- 
tion when  they  knew  it  not!  If  they 
had  been  distinguished  by  such  a  privi- 
lege,— if  they  had  been  in  His  arms 
who  now  was  "  made  higher  than  the 
heavens,"  being  the  object  o'"  adoration 
to  the  glorious  ho>ts  which  surround 
the  throne,  did  not  this  constitute  an 
obligation  not  to  be  resisted,  constrain- 


CHAPTER    III.  07 

lag  them  to  be  disilinguished  by  every 
holy  qualification,  and  every  heavenly 
grace  !  But  have  not  Christian  parents 
now,  a  similar  appeal  to  baptism,  in 
dealing  with  tlieir  oil'ipring,  who,  in 
that  solemn  ordinance,  have  been  sur- 
rendered to  the  same  gracious  Redeem- 
er, whose  Word  still  testifies  to  all  his 
people,  "  The  promise  is  unto  you  and 
unto  your  children."  Let  this  sacra- 
ment, then,  be  duly  exalted  ;  not  only 
as  a  source  of  comfort  when  disease 
wastes,  and  death  snatches  their  jewels 
away  from  them,  but  as  a  means  of  ex- 
hortation, instruction,  and  encourage- 
ment, while  they  are  left  under  their 
charge.  They  were  brought  to  Christ 
to  be  blessed,  in  the  way  ordained  by 
himself,  and  they  have  been  blessed. 
The  thrice  iioly  name  of  God  has  been 
named  on  them, — the  sign  of  his  giace 
administered  by  hi^  accredited  servant ; 
7 


9S        SORROWING,   YCT   REJOICING. 

why,  then,  should  they  be  aliens  orene 
mies  ;  why  serve  any  strange  goJ,  or 
why  seek  joy  elsewhere  than  in  the 
wells  of  salv^ation  ? 

Our  youngest  boy,  Alexander,  had 
just  passed  his  fourth  birth-day.  For 
his  years,  he  was  a  child  of  uncommon 
strength  and  vigour.  His  appearance 
was  highly  prepossessing;  and  his 
generous  disposition  and  vivacity  made 
him  a  universal  favourite.  Strangers 
will  naturally  be  jealous  of  a  parent's 
description ;  but  such  as  knew  him 
will  not  deny  that  he  was  a  lovely  and 
an  engaging  child.  His  robust  consti- 
tution had  resisted  the  effects  of  hoop- 
ing-cough, so  that  he  suffered  little 
from  it.  The  subsequent  fever  lay 
long  upon  him ;  for  his  natural  liveli- 
ness made  restiaint  of  any  kind  so  in- 
tolerable, that  he  could  with  great  diffi- 
culty be  induced  to  submit  to  the  ne- 


CHAPTER    III.  99 

cessarj'^  conKnemcnt.  He  had,  how- 
ever, but  Tor  weakness,  nearly  recov- 
ered his  usual  health. 

On  the  day  on  which  Matilda's  cof- 
fin was  brought  to  the  manse,  when  I 
went  to  the  door  to  meet  the  trades- 
man, I  found  Alick  standing  there. 
The  weather  was  piercingly  cold,  with 
sleet  and  high  wind.  He  had  escaped 
unobserved  from  the  nursery,  and,  with 
childish  curiosity,  was  gazing  on  an 
object  which  to  him  was  new.  The 
consequence  dreaded  ensued, — he  had 
caught  a  slight  cold,  and  next  day  suf- 
fered a  relapse  of  the  fever.  He  was 
confined  to  bed.  and  we  hoped  that,  un- 
der the  simple  remedies  employed,  this 
new  indisposition  would  soon  disap- 
pear. 

When  poor  Jessie  expired,  he  was 
a  deeply  interested  witness  of  all  that 
passed  on  that  affecting  occasion.    Our 


100      SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

attention  was  so  exclusively  and  in 
tensely  occupied  with  her  case,  that  we 
wholly  overlooked  the  circumstance  of 
poor  Alick's  presence.  When  my  eye 
caught  him,  after  all  was  over,  he  was 
resting  on  his  -elbow,  having  raised 
himself  in  bed  to  observe  more  dis- 
tinctly what  was  going  forward.  Never 
shall  I  forget  the  expression  of  his  intel- 
ligent countenance,  when  his  eye  caught 
mine.  It  was  as  if  he  wished  me  to 
be  comforted,  and  to  comfort  him,  by 
giving  assurance  that  no  evil  had  oc- 
curred, and  that  no  new  sorrow  had 
come  upon  us.  Alas  I  dear  boy,  little 
did  we  think  that  his  own  days  had 
drawn  to  so  narrow  a  span,  and  that  he 
should  so  soon  follow  his  darling  sister, 
the.  sharer  of  his  joys,  and  often  his 
comforter  in  many  a  little  sorrow ! 

On  observing  our  mistake,  to  have 
permitted  him  to  witness  Jessie's  de- 


CHAPTER  HI.  101 

cease,  we  had  him  wrapped  in  blankets, 
and  carried  to  a  warm  and  well  season- 
'ed  room  in  another  part  of  the  house. 
For  a  day  or  two  no  apprehension  was 
entertained  for  him ;  but  then,  as  he 
did  not  decidedly  improve,  medical  ad- 
vice was  called  to  our  aid.  The  opin- 
ion of  both  the  gentlemen  who  visited 
him  was  favourable, — they  thought  the 
ailment  slight ;  and  so  should  we,  in 
ordinary  circumstances,  have  done ; 
but  our  past  sad  experience  utterly  for- 
bade our  being  at  ease  in  witnessing 
the  symptoms  manifested.  These 
were  such  as  to  produce  a  fear  of  wa- 
ter VI  the  head  ;  and  we  trembled  to 
think  of  the  sufferings,  to  him  and  to 
us,  which  must  ensue.  Although  the 
medical  gentlemen  did  not  willingly 
admit  their  fears  of  this  dreadful  com- 
plaint, we  thought  we  could  perceive  it 
was  from  compassion  to  us.      Their 


102     SORROWING,   YET   BEJOICING. 

prescriptions,  when  we  afterwards  re 
fleeted  on  their  character,  showed  their 
apprehensions;  but,  at  the  tlxtie,  we 
were  too  anxious  to  listen  to  any  opin- 
ion which  contradicted  our  impressions, 
and  afforded,  if  not  rest,  at  least  tem- 
porary respite,  to  our  aching  hearts. 

At  no  period  of  our  trial  were  we 
more  impressed  than  now  with  the 
truth,  that  the  Lord's  compassion  is 
that  of  a  father  for  his  children.  A  new 
affliction  was  to  come — our  good,  his 
glory,  required  it ;  but  it  came  not  so 
as  to  overwhelm.  Step  by  step  we 
were  let  down  to  the  depths  of  this  sor- 
row; and  although,  in  course  of  the  ten 
days  during  which  we  watched  and 
prayed  by  our  dying  boy,  the  furnace 
appeared  as  if  seven  times  heated,  yet 
then,  more  than  at  any  other  period  of 
our  suffering,  did  we  feel  most  sensibly 
His  presence  and  faithfulness  who  has 


CHAPTER   in.  103 

said,  "  When  thou  walkest  through  the 
fire  thou  shalt  not  be  burnt;  neither 
shall  thfi  flame  kindle  upon  thee," — 
the  interpositions  of  Ilis  providence, 
the  supplies  of  his  srace,  and  the  con- 
solations of  His  Spirit.  "  Let  Israel 
hope  in  the  Lord,  for  with  the  Lord 
there  is  mercy." 

The  remarks  which  I  have  ventured 
to  introduce  in  the  beginning  of  this 
Narrative  were  now,  as  at  other  sea- 
sons ot  our  affliction,  strongly  suggest- 
ed, viz.,  the  possibility  that  true  religion 
may  exist  in  the  soul  of  a  child,  whilst 
his  natural  vivacity  and  very  childish- 
ness conceal  it  from  the  view  of  human 
eye,  until  disease  comes,  and  the  flow 
of  animal  spirits  subsiding  under  its  in- 
fluence, gives  opportunity  to  the  latent 
grace  to  appear.  Poor  Alick  had  not 
yet  learned  to  read  ;  but,  from  the  very 
dawn  of  intellect,  he  would  listen  with 


104     SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

earnest  and  attentive  ear  to  those  parts 
of  Scripture  which  he  could  understand 
when  read  to  him  ;  and  a  "  pretty  story 
from  the  Bible"  had  always  charms  for 
which  play  and  every  thing  else  would 
at  any  time  be  abandoned.  It  was  a 
bribe  which  secured  quiet  on  all  occa- 
sions, and  the  attraction  which  drew 
him  particularly  to  his  elder  brother 
and  knit  his  heart  to  his. 

More  than  a  year  before  the  period  of 
Alick's  illness,  a  little  incifient  occurred 
in  the  nursery,  which,,  as  it  produced 
a  strong  sensation  there,  and  deeply 
affected  hira,  may  be  related.  It  was 
soon  after  the  recovery  from  measles, 
already  alluded  to.  One  night  a  sister, 
about  double  his  age  then,  was  observ- 
ed to  be  pensive  and  much  dejected. 
She  was  asked  wliat  was  wrong.  Hei 
answer  was.  "  Can  you  tell  me  what  a 
soul  is  ?"     Her  oldest  brother  began  to 


CHAPTER  irr.  105 

explain  that  it  is  not  the  body,  although 
residing  in  it, — that  when  the  body 
dies  the  soul  continues  to  live, — and 
that  the  souls  of  good  people  go  to 
heaven,  but  those  of  the  wicked  to 
hell.  She  became  much  agitated,  and 
1  cried,  "  Oh  what  shall  I  do,  what  shall 
I  do  ?  I  told  a  lie,  and  my  soul  must 
go  to  hell !"  As  she  was  in  real  dis- 
tress of  mind  ajid  wept  bitterly,  the  at- 
tention of  all  the  children  was  attracted 
to  her,  and  to  the  subject  under  discus- 
sion. The  offence  to  which  she  alluded 
had. occurred  more  than  a  year  before. 
She  had  by  accident  burned  her  pina- 
fore, and  on  being  charged  with  it, 
denied  the  fact.  When  the  truth  was 
discovered  she  was  brought  tome,  and 
m  'warning  her  of  the  nature  of  her 
offence,  I  quoted  some  of  the  passages 
of  Scripture  which  speak  of  the  doom 
of  "hars."     Her  brother  endeavoured 


106      SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

to  appeasn  her  by  telling  of  pardon  by 
the  blood  of  Christ,  and  assuring  her, 
that  if  she  asked  she  ".vould  obtain  for- 
giveness. Next  HiOfijiQg  the  incident 
was  related  to  raacirna ;  and  as  the 
child's  distress  continued,  she  spoke  to 
her  on  the  suoject.  She  confirmed 
what  her  brother  had  stated  ;  but  added, 
that  the  pardon  was  not  all  that  was 
required.  She  must  ask  and  receive 
a  new  lieart  and  right  spirit,  which 
Christ  was  as  willing  to  give  as  the 
pardon  of  sin.  "  But,  mamma,  I  do 
not  know  how  to  pray  for  it, — will 
you  teach  me  ?"  She  fell  on  her 
knees,  and  having  gone  through  her 
usual  prayer,  raised  her  eyes  earnestly 
to  her  mother,  saying,  "  Tell  me  now, 
mamma."  This  was  accoringlv  done 
in  a  few  plain  words  ;  and  both  during 
the  continuance  of  this  impression, 
which  lasted  long,  and  since,  they  have 


CHAPTER   III.  107 

been  in  constant  use.  The  other  chil- 
dren were  solemnly  afTected,  and  none 
more  than  dear  Alick.  Never  there- 
after did  he  lay  his  head  on  his  pillow, 
or  arise  from  sleep,  without  lisping, 
"  O  Lord,  create  a  clean  heart,  and  re- 
new a  right  spirit  within  me ;  taire 
away  this  hard  and  stony  heart,  and 
give  me  a  heart  to  love  and  serve  thee, 
for  Christ's  sake;"  preceded  by  the 
simple  lines, 

"This  night  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep  ; 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take." 

OR, 

"Tlie  Lord  hath  kfpt  me  throu!,'h  the  night, 
And  brought  me  to  j,lie  morjiin;;  light ; 
O  may  He  keep  me  all  this  day, 
And  many  me  walk  in  his  good  way." 

Subsequently  to  Jessie's  death,  a  very 
marked  change  was   apparent   in   his 


108         SOKROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

Avhole  manner  and  conduct.  He  had 
formerly  disliked  to  be  spoken  to  of 
death.  '•  Alick  not  going  to  die.  Al- 
ick  soon  Avell,"  he  used  to  say,  when 
his  liability  to  death  and  the  necessity 
of  preparation  were  set  before  his  mind. 
He  now  seemed  much  occupied  with 
the  subject,  and  no  such  aversion  was 
manifested  when  it  was  introduced. 
Every  medical  prescription  was  cheer^ 
fully  submitted  to,  and  the  most  nause- 
ous draughts  were  swallowed  without 
a  murmur.  Whilst  it  was  gratifying 
to  mark  this  change  in  his  disposition, 
we  were  cheered  by  the  hope,  that  the 
final  result  might  yet  be  favorable.  His 
natural  liveliness,  which  continued, 
contributed  likewise  to  deceive  us  ;  and 
although  none  o-f  the  alarming  symp- 
toms gave  way,  we  ceased  not  to  ex- 
pect the  natural  benefit  of  the  full  em- 
ployments of  the  suitable  means.     We 


CHAPTER   III.  109 

were  ready  to  accept  as  a  token  foi 
good,  his  willing  submission  to  medi- 
cal prescriptions,  and  we  looked  hope- 
fully for  the  blessing  which  could  make 
them  efffctual. 

In  the  beginning  of  his  illness,  the 
aching  of  his  head,  which,  however, 
was  but  occasional,  seemed  the  chief 
suffering.  "  Sore,  sore,"  he  would  say, 
laying  his  little  hand  on  his  burning 
brow.  This,  by  and  by,  seemed  to 
cease,  and  then,  when  asked  what 
pained  him,  "  Oh  !  me  so  tired,  papa, 
so  vely  tired,"  was  the  answer  which 
always  rung  our  hearts;  unable  as  we 
were  to  minister  any  relief,  until  at 
length  he  became  unconscious,  as  we 
hoped  and  believed,  of  all  the  pain 
and  misery  wherewith  he  was  afflicted. 

The  coma  or  stupor,  symptomatic  of 
this  direful  complaint,  did  not  make  its 
decided  appearance  until  the  last  week 


110         SOKROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

of  his  life  ;  but  for  eight  days  before  he 
expired,  he  had  not  above  one,  or  at 
most  two,  short  intervals  of  conscious- 
ness. Previous  to  these  days,  he  often 
asked  his  mother  to  read  "pretty  story 
from  the  Bible,"  and  would  listen  with 
a  pleased  and  happy  temper  to  all  that 
was  said  to  him  on  spiritual  matters. 
Again  and  again  did  he  request  to  hear 
about  the  "little  boy  who  had  sore 
bead,"  as  he  expressed  it, — the  Shuna- 
mite's  son,  the  mercy  shown  to  whom 
seemed  to  fill  his  mind  and  to  delight 
his  heart.  He  dwelt  on  the  thought 
that  "God  had  made  him  well ;"  and 
in  his  own  afflistion,  we  believe  he 
looked  to  the  same  source, — his  hope 
and  expectation, — as  a  child  might  do. 
It  is  difficult  to  say  how  small  a  por- 
tion of  the  living  seed  sown  in  a  child's 
soul  the  Eternal  Spirit  may  render  ef- 
fectual, and  to  what  degree.    He  may 


CHAPTER    lit.  Ill 

sanctify  such  afflictions  as  our  dear  boy 
experienced.  To  us  it  was,  indeed, 
consolatory  to  see  his  eye  turned  to- 
wards "the  light  shinirg  in  a  dark 
place  ;"  to  the  Word  of  God  ;  to  all  the 
truths  extracted  therefrom,  which,  in 
various  shapes,  he  had  committed  to 
memory,  and  to  perceive  also  the  peace 
and  patience  vouchsafed  whilst  the 
heavy  hand  of  approaching  dissolu- 
tion was  laid  upon  him.  In  the  heart 
of  a  child  so  young,  there  could,  in 
such  circumstances,  be  no  guile  ;  and 
if  sincerity  reigned  in  his  feeble  ef- 
forts to  embrace  the  Saviour, — that  Sa- 
viour who  rebuked  his  disciples  when 
they  forbade  such  to  be  brought  to  Hira, 
— may  we  not  believe  it  was  heaven- 
born  and  accepted? 

"  If  babes  so  many  years  ago, 
His  tender  pity  drew, 
He  will  not  surely  let  me  go 
Witliout  a  blessing  too." 


112  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

The  first  indication  of  approaching  le- 
thargy appeared  on  Tuesday,  the  first  of 
May  ;  and  although  from  this  day  forth 
it  gained  upon   the  gentle  sufferer,  all 
communication  with  his  mind  did  not 
cease  until  the  beginning  of  the  succeed- 
ing week.  Even  then,  though  it  was  the 
last  of  his  short  earthly    career,  once 
or   twice   he  revived,  so  as  to  address 
us  in  words  of  intelligence  and  comfort. 
We  needed  comfort  ;  for  the    recollec- 
tion of  our  past  bereavements  began   to 
fade  before  the  anticipation  of  another 
clad  in  terrors  which  they  had  not  had. 
It  is  difficult  for  those  who  enjoy  the 
constant  and  ready   benefit  of  medical 
aid,  to  judge  of  the  distraction  of  mind 
which  the   want  of  this  privilege,  in 
such  ca^es  as  ours,  produces.   Material 
injury  may  be  the  result  of  acting  or  of 
refraining  from  action,  and   in  either 
case  the  reproach  of  mind  thereafter  is 


CHAPTER  HI.  113 

painful  beyond  description.  That  in  a 
parish  of  at  least  twenty  miles  square, 
there  should  not  be  even  one  resident 
practitioner,  may  surprise  some  not  ac- 
quainted with  such  a  state  of  things  ; 
yet,  in  the  Highlands,  it  is  no  uncom- 
mon occurrence.  Daily  visits,  therefore, 
are  out  of  the  question  ;  and  in  a  wide 
country  where  many  calls  arise  for  the 
services  of  those  useful  functionaries, 
thinly  scattered  over  its  surface  as  they 
are,  days  may  pass,  when  they  are 
sent  for,  ere  their  presence  can  be  ob- 
tained. On  more  than  one  occasion, 
during  our  dear  boy's  i  llness,  we  were 
deeply  affected  by  the  providential  cir- 
cumstances which  placed  within  our 
easy  reach,  in  the  hour  of  greatest  need, 
the  gentleman  who  had  charge  of  his 
case.  We  were  made  to  feel  that 
"  God,  who  coraforteth  those  who  are 
cast  down,"  had  sent  him,  if  not  to  cure 


114        SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

our  child,  at  least  to  soothe  for  a  time 
our  disturbed  spirits.  Because  we  re- 
cognised in  those  occurences  His  doing, 
they  were  at  once  wonderful  and  pre- 
cious in  our  eyes. 

We  could  enter  fully  into  the  "noble- 
man's" experience,  when,  with  thrill- 
ing importunity,  he  said,  "  Sir,  come 
down  ere  my  child  die!"  These  words 
became  common  in  our  lip?,  addressed 
to  the  great  Physician,  who,  when  they 
were  first  spoken,  heard  and  answered. 
And  did  He  not  hear  and  regard  the 
same  appeal  now  ?  Yes.  What  he 
said  to  the  "  nobleman,"  he  said  to  us. 
"Except  ye  see  signs  and  wonders, ye 
will  not  believe."  We  were  made  to 
remember,  that  "  signs  and  wonders" 
ought  not  to  be  necessary  to  the  exer- 
cise of  faith  ; — "  Blessed  are  they  who 
have  not  seen  and  yet  have  believed," 
— and  though  our  child  should  be  taken 


CHAPTER  III.  115 

from  us,  a  humble  assurance  was 
wrought  ia  our  minds  that  our  prayer 
was  not  "  put  away,"  and  that  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Son  of  God,  "  mighty  to 
save."  was  vouchsafed  us  in  the  furnace. 

There  are  but  few  additional  parti- 
culars in  the  story  of  this  dear  infant ; 
for  the  disease  made  painful  progress, 
and  the  prostration  of  strength  was 
rapid  and  overwhelming. 

"  Where  Jessie,  mamma, — where 
Matilda?"  he  said,  on  one  occasion, 
soon  after  the  stupor  had  commenced 
to  exert  its  influence,  as  he  opened  his 
eyes  and  looked  at  us  sitting  by  him. 

''They  are  with  Christ  in  heaven," 
was  the  answer. 

"Heaven  vely  pretty  place,  mam- 
ma'?" 

"  Yes.  Would  you  like,  Alick,  to  be 
with  Jessie  and  Matilda  in  that  pretty 
place  1" 


116      SORROWING,   YET  REJOICING. 

"  Ye^,  me  like  vely  much ;  but,"  see- 
ing our  tears  he  added,  "me  rather  stay- 
here,  and  me  be  good  boy  and  always 
say  nne  prayers." 

He  then  asked  his  mother  to  read  to 
him,  and  while  she  was  engaged  in 
this,  the  sleep  from  which  he  had  just 
awakened  regained  possession  of  him. 

Once  more  only  did  he,  after  this,  so 
far  recover  as  to  converse  distinctly 
with  us,  and  it  was  but  for  a  little  mo- 
ment. He  awoke  from  the  stupor,  and 
looking  at  us,  we  were  about  to  give 
him  something,  said,  with  a  sweet 
smile,  as  if  some  vision  had  just  been 
passing  before  his  eyes, 

"  Me  know  place  where  two  pretty 
lasses, — pretty,  pretty  place." 

"  Christ  has  taken  them  there,"  we 
said,  "  and  he  is  coming  to  take  Alick 
to  be  with  them." 

He  looked  at  us,  as  if  he  understood 


CHAPTER  III.  117 

what  we  meant;  his  eyes  grew  heavy, 
and  in  a  little  he  was  lost  in  sleep, 
which  nothing  could  break. 

Before  the  lethargy  had  exerted  its 
full  influence  over  him,  and  when  he 
had  become  so  feeble  that  he  could  no 
longer  place  himself  upon  his  knees, 
evening  and  morning,  he  was  heard 
whispering  his  infant  supplications  as 
he  lay  in  helpless  exhaustion  on  his 
uneasy  bed.  At  last,  when  his  mind 
became  enshrouded  in  increased  dark- 
ness, he  seemed  incapable  of  retaining 
the  ideas,  and  forgot  even  the  words  so 
often  used  by  him,  and  in  this  painful 
state  he  would  say  to  us,  with  a  melan- 
choly tone,  "Tell  me  ine  prayers, — 
not  know  what  say,"  and  would  repeat 
after  us  as  we  directed  him. 

During  the  last  week,  as  already 
stated,  he  was  lost  to  us.  More  than 
once  he  seemed  just  about  to  sink  under 


118      SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

his  heavy  load  of  suffering,  and  we 
besought  the  Lord  for  him,  as  one  at 
the  point  of  death.  The  recoveries  on 
tliese  occasions  appeared  very  singular. 
After  his  features  became  fixed,  and  the 
pulse  ceased  to  be  perceptible,  except  at 
intervals,  when  even  sinapisms  applied 
to  the  soles  of  his  feet  failed  to  stimulate 
the  circulation,  the  indefatigable'  exer- 
tions of  hismedicalattendant,  in  the  use 
of  various  cordials  would  be  blessed,  and 
the  darling  patient  would  levive  so  as 
to  breathe  freely,  and  appear  in  a  com- 
posed slumber.  Thus  the  taper  of 
life,  ere  it  went  out,  threw  up  its  fitful 
gleams  :  and  thus  the  Hearer  of  Prayer 
animated  and  encouraged  our  perse- 
vering supplications,  whilst  He  gave 
opportunity  to  continue  in  them.  How 
earnestly  did  we  plead  that  He,  with 
whom  nothing  is  impossible,  might 
prolong  his  days,  and  spare,  us  the  pang 


CHAPTER   III.  119 

of  a  third  separatioa  after  so  short  an 
interval ;  but  with  what  equal  earnest- 
ness did  we  ask  that  our  child  might 
be  numbered  with  the  redeemed, — 
those  who  are  washed  in  the  blood  of 
the  Lamb,  and  in  whom  his  Spirit 
dwells  !  And  did  we  err  in  believing 
the  secret  support  vouchsafed  in  our 
trying  hour  to  be  the  earnest  of  God's 
accepting  our  prayers,  and  of  his  will- 
ingness to  exceed  abundantly  all  our 
desires  and  thoughts  ? 

His  sufferings  towards  the  close  be- 
came dreadful.  On  Saturday  the  13th, 
we  more  than  once  conceived  that  he 
was  expiring,  and  we  kneeled  by  his 
bed  under  this  impression, — accepting 
Christ  for  him,  devoting  him  to  the 
Lord,  pleading  that,  in  the  furnace 
into  which  he  was  cast,  the  dross  of 
sin  might  be  purged  away,  and  his  re- 
deemed soul  prepared  for  the  heavenly 


120     SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

inheritance,  and  humbly  imfjloring,  loo, 
that  his  sufferings  might  be  diminished. 
In  the  night  he  appeared  much  reliev- 
ed, and  on  Sabbath  he  still  survived, 
though  it  was  evident  the  hand  of 
death  pressed  heavily  on  him.  To- 
wards afternoon,  symptoms  of  convul- 
sions appeared.  They  increased.  O 
what  a  sight  is  the  approach  of  the 
'•last  enemy,"  thus  exerting  his  power  ! 
and  what  consolation  to  be  able  to 
think  that  our  helpless  child,  lhou5h  the 
victim  of  that  power,  was  unconscious 
of  it  !  The  struggle  was  lonsr, — all 
that  human  art  and  ceaseless  attention 
could  do  to  alleviate  the  aiony  of  this 
dark  hour  was  done.  It  ceased  at  last, 
and  a  little  past  midnight  our  lovely  . 
boy,  heaving  three  deep  sighs,  yielded 
up  his  spirit  into  the  hands  of  its  faith- 
ful Creator  ! 

How  dear  this  child  was  to  us,  our 


CHAPTER  III.  121 

heavenly  Father  knows,  and  how  deep, 
therefore,  the  wound  inflicted  by  his 
untimely  end.  Yet  we  enjoyed  a  sooth- 
ing persuasion,  that  his  disembodied 
soul  had  joined  his  beloved  sisters,  be- 
fore the  throne,  where  the  pang  of 
no  separation  will  ever  overtake  them. 
We  reflected  on  his  infantile  age, — on 
the  humbling  and  apparently  gracious 
effects,  through  the  power  of  God, 
which  the  affliction  he  had  witnessed 
produced, — on  the  evident  employment 
of  instruction,  imparted  in  days  of 
h  alth,  for  separating  his  affections 
from  the  world,  and  raising  his  thoughts 
to  heaven.  Above  all,  we  reflected, 
with  gratitude  and  humble  confidence, 
on  the  spirit  of  supplication  which  we 
so  remarkably  felt  poured  on  ourselves 
during  all  the  term  of  his  illness,  pro- 
tracted as  it  was  beyond  our  expecta- 
tions; and  wnich  we  knew  to  be  pour- 


122     SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

ed  not  on  us  alone,  but  on  others  also 
iu  his  behalf.  As  each  of  our  dear 
children  had  been  called  away,  wepub- 
lished  the  event,  saying,  "  Perhaps 
some  Christian  friend  may  be  induced 
to  pray  for  us."  And  during  the  clos- 
ing scene  of  Alick's  life,  when  sympa- 
thy was  strongly  awakened,  our  hope 
in  this  was  strikingly  realized.  Pious 
friends,  near  and  at  a  distance,  as  sev- 
eral have  since  informed  me,  were 
moved  to  pray  for  us,  and  especially  for 
our  dying  boy.  We  reflecieJ,  that  if 
the  Lord  gave  this  spirit  of  supplica- 
tion at  such  a  time, — if  he  enabled  our- 
selves to  take  hold  on  his  strength,  and 
raised  up  others  to  plead  for  us,  it  was 
that  when  thus  "  inquired  of,"  he  might 
do  the  thing  we  asked.  For  "  this  is 
the  confidence  that  we  have  in  him, 
that,  if  we  ask  any  thing  according  to 
his  will,  he  heareth  us :    And  if  we 


CHAPTER   III.  123 

know  that  he  hear  us,  whatsoever  we 
ask,  we  know  that  we  have  the  pe- 
titions that  we  desired  of  him." 

On  the  17th  of  May,  exactly  one 
month  from  the  date  of  dear  Matilda's 
funeral,  the  mortal  remains  of  our  be- 
loved Alexander  were  laid  in  the  grave. 
lie  was  placed  on  her  right  hand,  his 
coffin  touching  her's  on  that  side  as 
Jessie's  did  on  the  left. 

"  The  voice  said,  Cry.  And  he 
said,  what  shall  I  cry  ?  All  flesh  is  grass, 
and  all  the  goodliness  thereof  is  as 
the  flower  of  the  field.  The  grass 
withereth,  the  flower  fadeth;  because 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  bloweth  upon  it: 
surely  the  people  is  grass." 


4 


— m 


CHAPTER  IV. 


"  Those  that  are  broken  in  their  heart, 
And  grieved  in  their  minds, 
He  healeth,  and  ttieir  painful  wounds. 
He  tenderly  upbinds." 


But  the  story  of  our  sufferings  ends 
not  here  ;  for  our  cup  of  sorrow  was 
not  yet  full.  And  when  I  trace  these 
words  and  look  back,  I  feel  amazed  how 
nature  supported  the  accumulated  load 
of  affliction  wherewith  it  pleased  God 
to  visit  us.  Nature,  did  I  say  ?  Alas  ! 
long  ere  this  it  had  been  overwhelmed, 
but  for  that  grace  which  was  vouchsaf- 
ed, and  to  the  power  of  which  v/e  were 
such  striking  witnesses.  "  Bless  the 
Lord,  O  our  souls  and  forget  not  all 
his  benefits." 


CHAPTER   IV.  125 

"  Trials  must  and  will  befall ; 
But  with  huuible  faitli  to  see 
Lovp  inscribed  upon  them  all, 
This  is  happiness  to  me." 

Our  second  daughter,  Ann,  had  just 
passed  her  ninth  birth-day.  She  was 
one  of  those  rare  and  happy  beings 
who  make  friends  of  all  who  know 
them.  Her  natural  temper  and  dispo- 
sition were  particularly  amiable  ;  and, 
pleased  and  contented  with  everything 
herself,  she  never  harboured  a  suspi- 
cion of  a  contrary  feeling  in  the  mind 
of  others.  Like  her  sister,  she  had 
been  apt  to  learn ;  and,  besides  hav- 
ing her  mind  stored  with  the  truths 
of  Scripture,  and  many  psalms  and 
hymns,  she,  too,  had  made  considerable 
progress  in  secular  education. 

She  had  suffered  little  from  hooping- 
cough  and  the  subsequent  fever,  and 
until  near  the  close  of  Alick's  illness. 


126  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

was  considered  quite  recovered.  Some 
days  before  his  death  she  complained  of 
pain  in  her  side,  but  a  sinapism  and 
some  simple  medicine  removed  it,  and 
she  was  again  quite  well.  The  fluctu- 
ation of  feeling,  of  hope  and  fear,  which 
agitated  us  with  regard  to  Alick,  was 
not  communicated  to  the  other  child- 
ren ;  for  it  was  evident,  that  they  all 
began  to  tremble  as  if  they  were  set 
apart  to  death  ;  and  to  feel  as  if  one  af- 
ter the  other  was  to  be  smitten  down. 
We  sought  to  cheer  them,  and  to  sup- 
port their  minds,  as  we  best  could,  by 
referring  to  His  garce  and  mercy,  in 
whose  hands  their  life  was ;  but  at 
length  it  became  impossible  for  us  to 
conceal  our  own  dejection  and  uneasi- 
ness about  their  dear  brother. 

On  one  of  the  days  towards  the  end 
of  Alick's  last  week,  Ann  came  to  her 
mother  and  said,  "  How  is  poor  Alick  to- 


CHAPTER    IV.  127 

day  ?"  She  was  tenderly  attached  to  him, 
and  from  the  beginning  of  his  attack, 
evinced  the  deepest  interest  in  his  fate. 
Her  mother's  answer  was  not  encour- 
aging ;  on  which  she  added  with  an  ex- 
pression of  the  deepest  anxiety,  "  Sure- 
ly Alick  is  not  going  to  die,  mamma?" 
Her  mother's  look  told  but  too  truly  her 
fears  ;  and  though  she  said  much  to 
soothe  her  under  her  evident  distress, 
the  shock  to  her  feehngs  was  a  severe 
one.  Immediately  thereafter,  as  she 
told  us  subsequently,  she  felt  a  sudden 
pain  dart  through  her  head,  which 
never  forsook  her. 

That  evening,  it  was  thought  ad- 
visable to  apply  leeches  to  her  fore- 
head. Next  day,  though  she  got  out  of 
bed  and  manifested  her  usual  cheer- 
ful equanimity,  the  leeching  was  repeat- 
ed, and  other  means  employed  with  ap- 
parently good  effect ;  but  on  Sunday  it 


128         SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING 

was  necessary  to  confine  her  to  bed,  and 
blistering  on  tlie  back  of  tlje  head  was 
added  to  the  other  treatment.  Nothing 
ot'all  this  would,  probably,  have  been 
resorted  to,  but  for  our  past  experience, 
which  quickened  our  apprehensions, 
and  induced  our  medical  friend  to  anti- 
cipate danger  by  decided  measures.  It 
is  gratifying  now  to  think,  that  we 
were  thus  directed  in  Providence,  and 
that  what  man  could  do  was  done  for 
our  beloved  child. 

On  Sabbath  afternoon,  our  oldest  boy 
was  sent  to  sit  with  poor  Ann  in  her 
room,  whilst  the  family  partook  of  a 
hasty  meal.  When  dinner  was  past 
and  all  had  retired,  or  returned  to  their 
duty  by  the  sick-beds,  he  came  in  and 
sat  down  by  me,  with  an  expressoin  of 
face  which  told  that  he  had  something  to 
communicate.  I  asked  him  whether  he 
had  had  any  conversation  with  his  sister 


CHAPTER    IV.  129 

on  sorious  matters.  He  answered  that 
he  h.iJ  beeij  conversing  virith  her,  and 
that  she  was  under  great  concern  for  her 
soul.  She  had  been  desircu?  to  unbur- 
den her  mind  to  her  mother  when  read- 
ing the  Scriptures  to  her  in  the  morn- 
ing, hut  had  been  prevented  from  seve- 
ral causes,  and  she  now  feU  great  anx- 
iety that  we  should  both  come  to  her 
a))artment,  and  give  her  an  opportunity 
of  speaking  to  us.  Alick  still  surviv- 
ed, though  life  was  ebbing  fast, — he 
filled  our  thoughts,  and  Ann's  case  had 
not  yet  excited  any  alarm.  This  mes- 
sage, however,  brought  us  quickly  to 
her  bed-side. 

We  besought  her  to  open  her  mind 
freely  and  fully,  and  encouraged  her 
to  speak  and  conceal  nothing.  On  this 
she  began  in  a  manner,  and  with  an 
expression  the  most  touching,  to  confess 
her  exceeding  sinfulness.  She  said 
0 


130      SORROWING,   YET   REJOICmG. 

that  she  had  been  long  thoughtless  and 
fndifferent  about  her  soul,  although 
she  had  often  felt  convictions  ;  and  her 
mind  seemed  deeply  distressed  with 
the  recoUectioa,  that  even  on  the  day 
of  Matilda's  funeral,  she  had  been  so 
light-hearted  as  to  be  amusing  herself 
with  toys.  She  lamented  in  strong 
terms  that  she  had  never  been  doing 
good  in  the  world,  nor  glorifying  God, 
— the  chief  end  for  which  she  had  been 
created.  Her  humiliation  \yas  very 
striking;  every  look  and  expression 
showed  it,  so  that  after  listening  long 
to  her  declarations  of  self-abasement, 
and  in  various  ways  searching  her 
views  and  feelings,  I  felt  within  myself 
a  blessed  assurance  that  the  law  had 
come  home  to  her  soul  with  divine 
power. 

During  the   whole  of  this  day,  and 
for  two  days  previous,  she  had  been,  as 


CHAPTER    IV.  131 

was  thought,  in  a  nervous  state,  ^e 
appeared  unwilling  to  be  left  alone,  and 
grasped  convulsively  the  hand  of  any 
one  whose  charge  it  was  to  be  with  her. 
I  was  surprisecJ  to  be  informed  of  this  ; 
for  all  the  children  were  trained  to  be 
alone  in  the  dark,  or  otherwise,  as  cir- 
cumstances required,  and  they  knew 
no  superstitious  fears.  It  was  con- 
science that  had  awaked,  and  under 
saving  conviction  of  sin,  she  had  not 
yet  attained  to  the  liberty  and  love 
which  deliver  from  bondage  and  cast 
out  fear.  We  were  much  affected  with 
the  tenderness  manifested  by  one  little 
trait.  She  had,  it  would  appear,  a  long 
time  before,  informed  against  poor 
Alick  in  some  slight  offence  of  which 
he  had  been  guilty.  As  they  were 
warmly  attached,  he  had  felt  acutely 
the  accusation  coming  from  her,  and 
had  wept  bitterly  under  the  trial.     The 


132      SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

ind^dent  now  recurred  to  her  mind, 
and,  sincerely  grieved  by  tlie  recollec- 
tion, she  asked  me,  wilh  tears  in  her 
eyes,  if  I  thought  Alick  remembered  it  ? 
He  was  dying,  and  her  heart  was  rack- 
ed with  the  thought,  thai  she  had  ever 
produced  one  uneasy  feeling  in  his 
mind.  Both  tables  of  the  law  were 
condemning  her, — she  had  transgressed 
against  God,  and  she  had  not  loved  her 
brother  as  she  should  have  done.  She 
now  ended  the  disclosure  of  her  experi- 
ence by  saying,  with  a  tune  and  expres- 
sion of  countenance  which  melted  my 
heart,  "  Oh,  papa,  do  you  think  Christ 
will  save  me  ?" 

Surely  here  was  an  orporlunity,  of  no 
ordinary  kind,  lo  proclaim  the  glad  tid- 
ings of  salvation, — and  with  what  feel- 
ings was  it  embraced  !  The  large  tears 
were  rolling  over  her  face,  and  her 
altitude   was  that  of  deep  attention.     I 


m- 


CHAPTER    IV.  133 

assured  her,  on  the  authority  of  one 
commissioned  to  do  so,  tiiat  the  Gospel 
was  for  her,  and  for  all  like  her,  con- 
vinced of  sin.  Texts  with  which  she 
was  familiar  were  quoted.  The  will- 
ingness of  God  to  receive  her  into  his 
spiritual  family  was  set  before  her  from 
them, — the  love  of  Christ  for  sinners, — 
his  faithfulness — he  had  never  refused, 
never  failed  any  penitent  applicant — his 
being  far  more  anxious  to  save  her  than 
she  wa-  to  be  saved  by  him — the  infinite 
merit  of  his  great  atonement — his  all  pre- 
vailing intercession,  and  the  certainty 
that  none  who  came  to  him  should  be  lo3t. 
She  seemed,  like  Lydia,  to  have  her 
heart  opened,  and  immediately  to  re- 
ceive the  Gospel  with  the  simplicity  and 
confidence  with  which  a  little  child,  or 
those  made  like  unto  them,  only  can. 
The  Spirit  who  had  convinced  her  of  sin, 
appeared  to  convince  her,  with  equal 


134     SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING 

power,  of  mercy  in  Christ ;  and  from 
that  moment  forth  she  had  peace  in  be- 
lieving. It  was  remarkable,  that  the 
feeling  which  had  been  ascribed  to 
nervousness  never  more  returned, — she 
was  delivered  from  the  deep  pit  and 
miry  clay, — her  mind  was  thoroughly 
relieved, — its  load  was  gone, — the  dark- 
ness had  passed,— and  whilst  her  con- 
versation indicated  increasing  spiritual- 
ity, there  was  no  recurrence  of  the 
bondage  of  fear. 

No  new  information  was  communi- 
cated to  our  beloved  child  in  what  had 
been  spoken.  With  the  peculiar  truths 
of  the  Gospel  she  was  previously  well 
acquainted ;  for  at  our  Sabbath  evening 
exercises  of  proving  doctrines  from 
Scripture,  the  "proofs"  adduced  by 
Ann  were  always  nearly  equal  to  those 
of  her  elder  sister  and  brother.  The 
calm  which  succeeded  her  previous 


CHAPTER   IV.  135 

agitation,  arose  not,  then,  from  new- 
knowledge  comnaunicated  to  her  mind, 
but  it  was  grace  causing  her  to  receive 
the  glorious  truths  of  "the  Word,"  as 
addressed  to  herself;  it  was  faith, 
wrought  by  the  Spirit  in  her  soul,  ap- 
propriating Christ  and  his  salvation, 
thereby  making  her  to  pass  from  death 
to  life.  How  truly,  then,  does  the 
Lord,  in  the  experience,  and  out  of 
the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings, 
perfect  praise !  The  great  exercise, 
and  difficult  work  of  faith,  is  to  see 
sin  and  Christ  at  the  same  time, — 
to  be  penetrated  with  a  lively  sense 
of  our  demerit,  and  absolute  freedom 
from  condemnation.  The  more  we 
know  of  both,  the  nearer  approach  we 
make  to  heaven  ;  and  here  we  behold, 
in  a  measure,  this  free  gift  of  God 
bestowed,  in  sovereign  grace,  upon  a 
little  child. 


136      SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  after  a  short  in- 
terval, "  I  know  that  I  shall  never 
rise  from  this  bed.  I  have  no  desire 
to  return  to  the  world,  to  be  exposed  to 
its  sins  and  temptations  ;  indeed  I  am 
not  sorry  to  leave  it." 

No  one  then  thought  her  to  be  in 
danger.  I  replied;  accordingly,  that  I 
hoped  she  would  soon  recover,  and  be 
spared  long ;  adding,  that  by  usefulness 
in  the  world,  and  by  advancing  the 
cause  of  Christ,  she  might  glorify  God, 
and  be  happy.  She  assented  to  this; 
but  said,  that  now  her  sorrow  to  part 
with  us  was  the  only  thing  which  could 
make  her  desire  to  live. 

"  What  is  the  world  !"  she  exclaim- 
ed. '■  See  the  changes  that  have  taken 
place  among  ourselves, — and  who 
would  desire  to  live  in  it  !" 

She  then  expressed  strong  desire  for 
holiness,    and    deliverance   from  sin ; 


CHAPTER   IV.  137 

entreated  us  to  be  praying  for  her ;  said 
she  knew  we  had  been  doing  so,  and 
seemed  filled  with  gratitude  that  she 
had  parents  who  could  minister  to  her 
in  spiritual  things.  Great  anxiety  was 
manifested  by  her  that  the  other  chil- 
dren should  be  concerned  for  their 
souls;  and  she  seemed  to  tremble  that 
any  of  them  should  be  careless,  as  she 
was  once. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  what  we 
felt ;  we  wept — but  they  were  tears  of 
joy.  I  had  not  been  permitted  to  see 
Matilda  on  her  death-bed  ;  but  1  was 
fully  persuaded  now  of  what  had  been 
told  me — that  no  relation  of  particulars 
could  convey  a  correct  impression  of 
the  holy  influence  which  pervaded  the 
place  where  she  lay.  I  experienced  it 
now.  I  felt  that  I  stood  upon  holy 
ground, — where  the  Lord  was  doing 
wonders  amongst  us  ;  in  wrath  remem- 


13S     SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

bering  mercy,  and  in  midst  of  the  tem- 
pest saying,  "  Be  of  good  cheer  ;  it  is 
1,  be  not  afraid."  In  the  next  room 
our  sweet  boy  was  passing  away.  In 
his  case  we  would  have  had  "  signs  and 
wonders," — an  infant  to  speak  as  one 
advanced  in  knowledge,  that  our  long- 
ing desires  for  his  soul  might  be  sen- 
sibly satisfied.  Though  this  had  been 
denied,  grace  was  given  to  believe  the 
goodness  of  the  Lord  to  him  ;  but  if  a 
shade  of  darkaess  still  lingered  around 
his  bed,  it  now  was  dispelled.  Here 
there  was  light  which  extended  thither, 
and  was  reflected  back  on  our  down- 
cast spirits.  We  felt  that  the  Lord  haa 
heard  our  importunate  supplication,  and 
that  to  us,  as  to  the  nobleman,  in  faith- 
fulness he  saiJ,  "  Go  thy  way,  thy  son 
liveth."  A  sweet  persuasion  of  his 
sovereign  loving-kindness  filled  our 
souls ;  and  it  needed  not  the  request  ot 


CHAPTER  IV.  139 

poor  Ann,  gently  made,  to  cause  us  to 
kneel  together  before  Him,  and  pour 
out  our  hearts  in  grateful  acknowledge- 
ments and  earnest  petitions  for  our 
dying  children. 

The  last  hymn  which  Ann  had  com- 
mitted to  memory,  Avas  that  marked 
44th  in  our  Church  collection  of  Para- 
phrases. With  the  view  of  calling  my 
attention  to  its  beauties, — for  it  seemed 
to  have  made  a  deep  impression  on  her 
own  mind, — she  began  to  repeat  it : 

"  Behold  the  Savinur  on  the  cross, 

A  spectacle  of  woe ! 
See  from  his  agonizing  wounds 

The  blood  incessant  flow." 

She  stopped,  and  proposed  some 
striking  questions,  with  reference  to 
the  rejection  of  our  Lord  by  the  Jews 
The  heinousness  of  their  sins,  in  being 
guilty  of  this,  appeared  to  awe  her  soul ; 
and   she  wept  when  speaking  of  his 


140      SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

sufferings  at  their  hands.  But  the 
point  on  which  she  principally  dwelt, 
was  God's  long-suffering  towards  those 
who  had  so  greatly  provoked  him.  Of 
this  she  had  lately  been  leading,  and 
her  soul  was  now  fed  by  the  truth,  that 
he  has  not  cast  off  Israel. 

"Think,  papa,  of  His  infinitemercy," 
she  said,  "  Avhen,  although  they  have 
brought  such  judgments  on  themselves 
by  their  sins.  He  still  preserves  them, 
will  yet  be  their  God,  and  restore  them 
to  their  own  land." 

During  all  the  evening,  she  poured 
out  the  feelings  of  her  heart  in  a  strain 
of  highly  spiritual  conversation.  Like 
Elihu,  she  was  "full  of  matter;  the 
Spirit  within  constrained  her,  and  she 
spoke  that  she  might  be  refreshed." 
She  reminded  rae  of  many  things  I  had 
said  in  sermons  preached  long  before, 
which,  she   stated,  had   never  left  her 


CHAPTER  17.  141 

mind.  She  spoke  of  what  had  affect- 
ed her  in  readiug  the  Scriptures,  and 
pious  books.  She  dwelt,  with  great 
interest  and  feeling,  on  the  providence 
which  had  detained  them  ail  from 
church  for  the  wiater  and  spring 
months;  and  how  much  that  loss  had 
been  made  up  by  her  mother's  exerci- 
ses with  them, 

"  O  papa,  if  you  had  been  with  us, 
and  seen  how  happy  we  were  ;  but  ali 
that,"  she  added  with  a  sigh,  '"  is  past 
now." 

T  remarked,  that  their  absence  from 
public  ordinances  was  of  God's  ap{)oint- 
ment,  not  of  their  own  choice,  and  that 
I  believed  he  had  blessed  this  dispensa- 
tion to  them,  by  the  effectual  teaching 
of  his  Spirit;  "  O  yes,"  she  said,  "I 
think  so." 

When  I  listened  to  the  child,  whom 
I  had  always  seen  so  gay,  and  appar- 


© 


142  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

ently  so  thoughtless,  whose  artless,  sim 
plicity  I  had  often  fancied  incompati- 
ble with  clear  understanding,  or  serious 
feeling,  in  religious  matters,  thus  mani- 
fest a  mind  well  informed,  and  a  heart 
tenderly  aftected,  how  did  God  seem 
to  say, "  My  thoughts  are  not  youi 
thoughts,  neither  are  my  ways  your 
ways:"  and  what  a  commentary  had 
we  given  us  on  the  words  of  the  bless- 
ed Saviour,  "  I  thank  thee,  O  Father, 
Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  because 
thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the 
wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed 
them  unto  babes."  We  were  also 
deeply  impressed  with  the  small  share 
which  human  instrumentality  has  in 
the  great  work,  and  how  truly  "  the  ex- 
cellency of  the  power  is  of  God." 
This  we  perceived,  instead  of  being  an 
inducement  to  negligence  in  training 
our  children,  is  a  powerful    motive  to 


CHAPTER  IV.  143 

persevere  in  even  the  most  inefficient 
means.  How  far  short  we  came  of 
other  parents,  of  whom  we  had  read,  1 
often  was  humbled  to  think  cf ;  and 
now  that  the  blessin?  was  truly  bestow- 
ed, we  felt  that  to  His  name  alone  be- 
longed the  glory. 

Then,  let  those  who  tremble  under  a 
sense  of  their  shortcomings,  and  who 
have  no  confidence  in  mstructions  com- 
municated by  them,  but  whose  prayers 
and  diligence  may,  to  themselves,  even, 
be  an  evidence  how  sincerely  they  "tra- 
vaii  in  birth  again,  until  Christ  be  form- 
ed" in  their  children,  be  encouraged. 
Let  them  hope  in  God, — they  may  yet 
praise  him  ;  and  while  they  do  hope, 
let  them  not  slacken  their  imperfect 
services.  In  the  morning  sow  thy 
seed,  and  in  the  evening  withhold  not 
thine  hand :  for  thou  knowest  not 
whether  shaU  prosper   either  this  oi 


144      SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

that,   or   whether  they    both  shall  be 
alike  good." 

'  If  Ihoo  wouldst  reap  in  love, 
First  sow  in  li«ily  fear  ; 
So  life  a  winter's  innrn  may  prove 
To  a  bright  endless  year." 

The  first  week  of  Ann's  illness  was 
one  of  comparative  ease.  We  encour- 
aged ourselves  tobelieve  that  the  deci- 
ded mi^asures  taken  to  prevent  the  pro- 
gress of  any  complaint  in  the  head,  had 
been  blessed  to  produce  this  result ;  and 
as  her  strength  was  little  affected  by  pre- 
vious disease,  we  hoped,  against  secret 
misgivings  which  began  to  intrude,  that 
she  was  not  lo  be  taken  frona  us.  Her 
own  impression  was  quite  the  reA'crse. 
Her  natural  cheerfulness  had  returned, 
indeed,  but  it  was  chastened  by  a  full 
cunsciousncs'j  that  she  lay  on  her  death- 
bed. It  was  not  the  light-heartedness 
we  bad  been  wout  to  see,  but  the  com- 


CHAVT  ilR    IV.  145 

posure  of  one  who  had  been  made  to 
feel  that  she  stood  upon  a  Rock  which 
no  ware  could  shake.  She  was  in  the 
region  of  the  shadow  of  death,  but  the 
ra^s  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  Avere 
penetrating  the  gloom,  and  opening  to 
her  view  a  happy  prospect,  far  beyond 
the  confines  of  the  valley  upon  which 
she  had  entered.  Like  Israel  of  old, 
she  knew  that  the  destroying  angel 
was  abroad,  hut  she  rested  under  the 
security  of  the  blood  which  he  would 
regard.  Christ,  her  passover,  had  been 
slain  ;  she  was  not  only  sprinkled  with 
his  blood,  but  she  partook  of  his  flesh, 
— he  kept  her,  therefore,  in  perfect 
peace,  "  because  she  trusted  in  him." 

The  composed  view  Avhich  she  took 
of  her  approaching  dissolution,  showed 
the  secret  but  all-sufficient  influence  by 
which  she  was  sustained.  It  is  difficult 
to  say  whether  she  conceived  her  end 
10 


146        SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

to  be  near, — she  might  probably  think  it 
further  off  a  little  than  it  really  was, — 
but  she  always  seemed  hurt  when  any 
attempt  was  made  to  persuade  her  that 
her  sickness  was  not  imto  death.  On 
one  of  the  days  of  this  week,  she  com- 
plained to  her  mother  that  a  servant 
who  had  come  into  the  room  to  see  her, 
had  said  that  she  should  soon  be  well. 
"  It  was  wroncr,  mamma,"  she  remark- 
ed, "  to  say  such  a  thing,  as  none  but 
God  can  know  whether  I  shall  get 
well."  Her  mother  a>ked  if  she  wish- 
ed to  live  ;  she  hesitated  as  if  unwilling 
to  say  any  thing  that  might  distress 
her,  and  then  replied,  "  It  is  not  my 
will,  mamma,  that  must  be,  but  God's." 
The  Scriptures  were  constantly  read 
to  her,  at  her  own  request ;  and  we  en- 
gaged regularly  in  prayer  by  her  bed. 
She  was  herself  unremittingly  engaged 
in  this  duty. 


CHAPTER  IV.  147 

"I  hope,  my  dear  Ann,  you  are  ena- 
bled to  Icok  to  Christ  and  trust  in  him  ?" 
her  mother  said  to  her  on  one  occasion. 

"  O  yes,  mamma,"  was  the  answer ; 
"and  I  wish  the  whole  world  would 
come  to  him." 

On  another  occasion,  when  asked  if 
she  had  been  praying,  "  O  yes,"  she 
said,  "  I  have  been  praying  for  a  new 
heart :  I  have  been  asking  to  be  made 
righteous ;  and  that  all  of  us  should  be 
made  righteous  ;  and  that  my  heart 
may  be  raised  entirely  off  this  world." 

On  a  third  occasion,  when  I  put  the 
same  question  to  her,  the  answer  was, 
"I  have  been  praying  all  day,  papa, 
and  have  been  asking  to  be  made  rich 
in  faith.  I  have  prayed  that  mamma,  and 
you,  and  all  of  us,  may  be  made  rich  in 
faith.  There  are  many  who  are  rich 
in  money,  poor  jn  faith  ;  and  many 
who  are  poor  in  money,  that  are  rich 


148      SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

in  faith.  Oh,  if  we  were  rich  in  faith !" 
Dear  child,  He  who  had  taught  you  to 
pray  was  bestowing  greater  riches  than 
the  treasures  of  Egypt ! 

How  beautiful  do  the  fruits  of  the 
Spirit  appear,  in  one  of  so  tender  an 
age  !  In  the  course  of  this  week,  she 
was  often  leeched  on  the  forehead  and 
temples ;  she  was  bled  twice  at  the 
arm  ;  the  sore  produced  by  the  blister 
on  the  back  of  her  neck  was  kept  open, 
and  powerful  means  employed  to  pro- 
mote a  plenteous  discharge  therefrom  ; 
tartaric  ointment  was  rubbed  behind 
her  ears,  to  produce  irritation  there,  to 
direct  the  humours  from  the  head ;  si- 
napisms were  applied  to  the  soles  of 
her  feet;  the  most  nauseous  medicines 
were  swallowed; — all  without  the 
slightest  murmur  or  complaint,  nay, 
with  a  perpetual  smile  upon  her  coun- 
tenance. 


CHAPTER   IV.  149 

Her  resignation  was  very  affecting. 
"  It  is  not  my  will,  but  God's  now," 
was  a  common  expression  with  her, 
indicating  the  principle  of  spiritual  life 
within,  which  produced  this  "beauty 
of  holiness"  without.  Her  trust  in  the 
Lord  was  not  less  affecting.  "  Arc  you 
afraid  to  be  bled,  Ann  ?"  her  mother 
asked,  on  the  first  occasion  oa  which 
this  operation  was  to  be  performed; 
for  I  do  not  like  to  see  it  done,  and  I 
would  leave  the  room  if  you  are  not 
alarmed, — you  know  it  is  your  own 
papa  who  is  to  do  it."  "Mamma,  I 
am  afraid,"  she  said,  then  added,  with 
an  expression  that  told  the  whole  feel- 
ing of  her  soul,  "  but  I  know  to  whom 
to  look." 

To  wards  the  end  of  the  first  week,  not- 
withstanding all  the  precautions  which 
had  been  employed,  the  pain  in  the 
head  was  not  permanently  removed ; 


150        SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

and,  besides  the  unfavourable  symp- 
tom of  its  continuance,  she  began  to 
tell  us  that  she  did  not  see  distinctly, 
that  objects  appeared  double  to  her ; 
and  complained  of  a  tingling  pain  in 
one  side  of  her  tongue,  extending  to 
the  fingers  of  the  hand  on  the  same 
side.  On  Sabbath  the  stupor  became 
so  manifest,  and  her  articulation  so  in- 
dicative of  paralysis,  that  we  could  no 
longer  presume  to  conceal  from  our- 
selves the  character  of  the  dreadful 
disease  to  which  she  also  was  about  to 
fall  a  victim.  Indeed,  all  her  symp- 
toms too  truly  identified  her  case  with 
that  of  her  little  brother;  and  we  had 
once  more  before  us  the  prospect  of 
witnessing  the  departure  of  another  of 
our  beloved  babes,  und^^r  the  most  dis- 
tressing complaint  to  which  children 
are  subject.  In  a  day  or  two,  the  deep 
sleep,  which  at  first  appears  so  like  the 


CHAPTER    IV.  151 

sleep  of  health,  but  which  soon  betrays 
its  own  nature,  by  startings,  grindings 
of  the  teeth,  and  pitiable  screamings, 
began  to  prevail.  Every  exertion  was 
made,  by  an  increased  application  of 
the  means  already  in  use,  to  alleviate 
or  remove  the  alarming  symptoms ;  but 
all  that  was  effected,  was  an  occasional 
dispersion  of  the  coma,  by  which  gra- 
cious opportunities  were,  in  mercy, 
granted  us  of  knowing  that  in  the  dark 
valley  she  was  preserved  and  guided 
by  the  Shepherd  of  Israel.  The  cloud 
in  which  her  mind  was  enveloped, 
while  the  Eternal  Spiiit  perfected  his 
work  in  preparing  her  soul  for  glory, 
was  occasionally  opened,  that  we  might 
be  permitted  to  know,  that  God's 
thoughts  towards  her  were  thoughts  of 
peace,  not  of  evil,  and  that  His  faith- 
fulness did  not  fail. 

It  had  been  an  object  of  much  inter- 


9~ 


152     SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

est  with  us,  in  course  of  the  season,  to 
have  our  dear  children  removed  from 
home  for  the  benefit  of  change  of  air. 
Our  anxiety  on  this  head  grew  every- 
day, and  with  their  rapii^  decrease  in 
number,  we  felt  as  if  this  alone  could 
be  the  means  of  preserving  any  of 
them  to  us.  Unfavourable  appearances, 
we  imagined,  began  to  show  them- 
selves in  our  youngest  surviving  child  ; 
and.  although  the  weather  still  contin- 
ued unusually  cold,  we  resolved,  under 
Providence,  with  whatever  hazard,  to 
adopt  the  measure  referred  to.  The 
kindness  of  a  gentleman  in  a  neighbor- 
ing parish,  whose  Christian  benevo- 
lence is  so  well  known,  and  who  lives 
but  '•  to  do  good,  and  to  communicate," 
afforded  a  facihty  of  much  importance 
for  carrying  this  into  effect.  He  placed 
his  yacht  at  our  disposal,  which,  as  it 
was  fitted  up  with  every  comfort,  se- 


CHAPTER  IV.  153 

cured  to  our  poor  invalids  all  the  ad- 
vantages which  could  be  expected  dur- 
ing a  sea-voyage.  A  clerical  friend 
kindly  agreed  to  accompany  tliem,  as  I 
could  not  myself  leave  our  dear  Ann, 
and  we  only  waited  a  favourable  hour 
for  embarking  them.  This  measure 
had  been  so  long  delayed,  by  so  many 
intervening  causes,  that  we  every  mo- 
ment feared  something  would  occur  in 
the  state  of  their  health  to  forbid  it  al- 
together. But  He  to  whom  belong  the 
issues  from  death  was  favourable  to 
us :  "  He  stayeth  his  rough  wind  in  the 
day  of  the  east  wind."  "  For,"  saith 
He,  "  I  will  not  contend  for  ever,  neither 
will  I  be  always  wroth  ;  for  the  spirit 
should  fail  before  me,  and  the  souls 
which  I  have  made." 

On  the  Tuesday  of  the  second  week 
of  Ann's  illness,  the  yacht  unfurled  her 
sails  in  our  bay,  and   we   prepared  to 


154         SOKROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

part — only  for  a  time  as  we  trusted, — 
with  the  three  who  now  remained  con- 
valescent, of  our  once  numerous  and 
healthy  family.  It  cannot  be  wondered 
at,  that  on  such  an  occasion  we  should 
feel  deeply;  but  the  measure  so  strongly 
recommended  itself  to  our  minds,  as 
holding  out  the  happy  prospect  of  their 
recovery,  that  we  were  encouraged  and 
comforted  under  the  dispensation.  God, 
we  believed,  would  bless  it  for  the  re-es- 
tablishment of  the  health  of  thosewhom 
he  had  yet  spared  us  ;  and  even  should 
he  see  meet  to  deny  this,  it  was  so 
plainly  a  duty  that  we  could  not  hesitate. 
Our  dear  Ann,  under  the  excitement 
of  the  occasion  of  their  departure,  was 
roused  from  the  lethargy  of  her  com- 
plaint. Some  one  had  said  to  her, 
"  Ann,  would  you  not  like  to  be  going 

with  the  rest  ?"     A  visit  to had 

always  been  an  object  of  their  happiest 


-n 


CHAPTER  IV.  155 

anticipations,  and  not  to  be  the  compan- 
ion of  her  brother  ai  d  sisters,  when 
about  to  go  there,  miglit  well  be  expect- 
ed to  prove  a  sore  disappointment.  Ten 
days  before,  she  was  the  gayest  in 
the  prospect  of  the  journey,  and  was 
preparing  herself  for  it ;  now  she  was 
left  behind — to  die  !  Her  answer  to  the 
question  showed  a  heart  truly  crucified 
to  the  world, — for  what  is  the  world 
to  a  child  but  that  from  which  it 
promises  itself  happiness, — and  that 
she  no  longer  looked  to  any  thing  in  it 
as  her  portion.  "  No,"  she  said,  after 
thinking  for  a  moment,  "  I  do  not  wish 
to  go.  Christ  can  mi.ke  me  as  happy 
lying  here  as  they  can  be  there."  Her 
manner  fully  evinced  that  this  was  the 
conviction  of  her  heart,  and  that  she 
felt  as  she  spoke. 

When   equipped  in  their  travelling 
dresses,  and  just  before   leaving  the 


156  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

manse,  the  children  came  into  her  room 
to  bid  her  farewell.  The  scene  which 
ensued  was  touching  in  the  extreme. 
The  tie  which  had  so  long  united  them 
was  about  to  be  broken,  and  they  were 
to  see  each  other  no  more.  Recollec- 
tions of  other  days — days  never  to  re- 
turn,— seemed  to  rush  into  their  minds  ; 
and,  young  in  years,  they  sished  under 
the  pressure  of  sorrows  which  age  even 
has  not  always  known.  Ann's  heart 
was  tenderly  affected.  She  took  them, 
one  after  the  other,  by  the  hand,  hold- 
ing them  firmly  in  her  own.  To  her 
brother  she  said,  "  Remember  ycu  are 
now  the  oldest, — you  are  the  head  of 
the  rest ;  O,  be  diligent  in  prayer  for 
yourself  and  them,  and  be  sure  the 
Lord  will  preserve  you  !"  She  then  ad- 
dressed her  sister  next  to  herself  in  age, 
— "  Remember  your  Bible  and  Cate- 
chism," she  said  ;  "and,  O,  be  praying 


CHAPTER    IV.  157 

for  rae  !"  To  her  youngest  sister  she 
said, — "  Remember  your  prayers,  and 
be  obedient  to  papa  and  mamma!" 
She  then  addressed  them  all, — "  You 
have  been  very  kind  to  me — O,  fare- 
well !  The  Lord  will  regard  you  for  it !" 

The  friend  who  was  to  accompany 
them  in  the  yacht  being  present,  she 
said  to  him, — '•  It  is  so  kind  of  you,  Mr. 

,  to  go  with  them  lo .     I  thank 

you  for  it,  and  for  a  1  the  kindness  you 
ever  showed  us.  Kver  since  you  knew 
us,  you  were  kind  to  us, — ihe  Lord  will 
regard  you  for  it ;  for  to  all  who  are  mer- 
ciful and  kind.  He  is  merciful.  All  his 
own  people  are  so,  a  d  none  but  they  are 
tiu  y  so."  "  Farewell !"  she  said  again, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  and  kissed  llie  children. 

Our  h'^arts  bled  ;  no  one  present  could 
refrain  from  tears.  But  with  the  dear 
suflerer  the  lucid  interval  had  paU  ;  the 
insidious   disease  with    which  she  was 


^- 


158         SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

Struggling  agaia  enshrouded  her  intel- 
lect— she  relapsed  into  unconscious- 
ness ;  and  when,  in  the  evening,  she 
revived  a  little,  and  I  attempted  to  re- 
call the  scene,  no  tiace  of  it  had  been 
left  on  her  mind. 

The  lethargy  was  evidently  on  the 
increase ;  and  all  we  could  now  do  was 
to  watch  her,  persevering  in  the  use  of 
the  various  prescriptions,  with  the  pros- 
pect, if  not  of  cure,  yet  of  the  allevia- 
tion of  the  more  distressing  symptoms. 
How  deeply  afflicting,  how  exhausting 
to  nature  those  unavailing  efforts,  they 
only  know  who  have  been  circumstan- 
ced as  we  were, — disease  in  so  many 
instances,  holding  its  onward  course, 
and  baffling  every  human  effort  to  stay 
its  progress, — hope  deferred  day  by  day, 
and  expiring  at  last,  as  each  object  of 
our  tender  solicitude  was  taken  away  ! 
Had  the  Word  of  God  been  unknown 


CHAPTER    IV.»  159 

to  US  at  such  a  time,  or  had  unbelief 
been  permitted  to  forbid  our  resting  on 
its  truths  as  the  very  revelation  of  Him 
who  gave  being  to  us  and  our  children, 
what  had  become  of  us  !  But,  indeed, 
"  as  silver  tried  in  a  furnace  of  earth, 
purified  seven  times,"  that  Word  in 
our  day  of  darkness,  was  to  us,— spark- 
ling with  light  and  perfection,  like 
the  high  priest's  breastplate, — "  rejoic- 
ing the  heart, — enlightening  the  eyes," 
—appearing  "  more  to  be  desired  than 
gold,  yea  much  fine  gold  ;  sweeter  also 
than  honey  and  the  honey-comb."  The 
way  to  the  throne  of  grace  was  open 
too  ;  and  though  "  our  flesh  and  heart 
did  fail,  God  was  the  strength  of  our 
heart  and  our  portion." 

Now,  as  during  the  illness  of  poor 
Alick,  some  token  for  good  was  shown 
us  each  successive  day.  and  the  Lord 
was  proving  himself  a  very   present 


160      SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

help  in  time  of  trouble.  Even  amidst 
the  agitating  circumstances  of  our  trial, 
we  were  often  affected  to  tears  by  the 
perception  of  this  ;  but  when  the  storm 
had  passed,  and  leisure  was  granted  to 
look  back  upon  all  the  way  by  which 
the  Lord  had  led  us,  our  hearts  were 
penetrated  with  the  liveliest  sense  of 
his  enduring  faithfulness  and  tender 
mercy. 

"  Judge  not  tlie  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace  ; 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 

He  liides  a  smiling  face. 
His  purposes  will  ripen  fast, 

Unfolding  every  hour  ; 
The  bud  may  have  a  bitter  taste, 

But  sweet  will  be  the  flower." 

On  the  morning  after  the  yacht  sail' 
ed,  the  nurse,  who  had  been  the  faith- 
ful attendant  of  all  the  children  from 
their  birth,  was  sitting  in  the  room 
alone  with  Ann.     Dimly  perceiving  the 


CHAPTER    IV.  161 

girl,  she  called  her  lo  approach. 
"Come  near  me,  Nanny,"  she  said, 
and  when  she  did  so,  she  moved  her 
hand  over  her  face,  to  assure  herself  of 
her  presence.  The  more  easily  to  grat- 
ify her  in  this,  the  nurse  liad  knelt  by 
the  side  of  the  bed,  "Nanny,"  she 
said  again,  rather  hurriedly,  "  you  are 
kneeling  ;  don't  kneel  to  me." — "  To 
whom  should  I  kneel  ?"  "  Kneel  to 
God  only  !"  she  answered  in  a  very  so- 
lemn tone,  and  then  requested  her  to 
read  to  her.  While  she  did  so,  and 
very  soon  after  she  had  begun,  the 
sleep  returned,  and  notwithstanding 
every  effort  to  resist  it,  resumed  its  pow- 
er, and  she  was  again  lost  to  conscious- 
ness. 

During   the  night,  intervals  of  this  . 

kind  occasionally  occurred,  when,  even 

amidst  the  heart-rending  and  helpless 

screamings  .  so  symptomatic  of  water 

11 


162      SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

in  the  head,  her  earnest  prayers  ad- 
dressed to  the  Saviour  for  patience, — 
for  all  spiritual  and  eternal  blessings, — 
could  be  heard. 

We  had  made  it  a  rule,  when  at  any 
time  she  showed  symptoms  of  return- 
ing consciousness,  to  repeat  some  text 
of  Scripture  close  to  her  ear.  In  this 
way  her  mind  was  assisted  in  its  feeble 
exertions,  and  her  soul,  we  hoped, 
might  be  fed  with  the  bread  of  life. 
Two  days  before  her  death,  on  an  oc- 
casion of  this  kind,  her  mother,  suppos- 
ing that  she  perceived  some  faint  traces 
of  consciousness,  approached,  and  re- 
peated these  words : 

"Yea,  though  I  walk  in  death's  dark  vale, 
Yet  will  I  fear  none  ill ;'" — 

No  sooner  were  they  uttered,  than 
they  seemed,  with  talismanic  power,  to 
dissolve  her  slumber.     She  immediate- 


CHAPTER  IV.  163 

ly    opened  her  eyes,   and,  with  great 
feeling,  added  : 

"  For  thou  art  vvitli  mo,  and  Thy  rod 
And  stair  nie  comfort  still." 

She  then  continued, — "O,  mamma, 
what  would  I  do  without  Christ  now  ! 
what  a  poor  miserable  creature  should 
I  be  without  him  !" 

"  Do  you  feel  Him  strengthening  and 
supporting  you,  Ann?"  her  mother  ask- 
ed. 

"  O  yes,  I  feel,"  she  said,  hesitating, 
as  if  she  could  not  select  a  suitable 
word  to  express  her  experience ;  "  I 
feel  as  if  He  were  pressing  me,"  using 
her  hands  so  as  to  describe  support  or 
upholding. 

I  then  reminded  her  that  Christ  could 
have  a  fellow-feeling   for   her  ia  her, 
sore  affliction  ;  for  he  had  been  a  little 
child  of    her  own  age,  and  had  gone 
through   all   the   agonies  preceding  a 


164      SORROWING,   YET  REJOICING. 

painful  death.  I  reminded  her  also  of 
his  compassion  as  a  merciful  and  faith- 
ful High  Priest,  so  that  in  all  the  afflic- 
tions of  his  own  children  he  is  afflict- 
ed, suffering  nothing  to  come  on  them 
but  what  is  necessary,  and  what  he 
will  give  them  strength  to  bear.  Her 
soul  seemed  nourished  and  comforted. 
"  O  yes  !"  she  said,  with  great  empha- 
sis; "  that  is  very  true  !"  1  then  asked, 
if  I  should  at  that  time  pray  wiih  her? 
"  O  yes  ;  I'll  be  very,  very  glad  ;  and, 
dear  papa,  be  always  praying /or  me." 
We  then  kneeled  around  her  bed,  and 
poured  out  earnest  prayers  on  her  be- 
half. She  remained  conscious,  and 
closely  attentive  for  a  little ;  but  the 
cloud  returned,  and,  long  before  our 
short  exercise  had  concluded,  the  deep 
sleep  out  of  which  she  had  awaked,  re- 
asserted its  irresistible  influence  over 
her  exhausted  frame. 


CHAPTER  IV.  165 

In  this  state  she  remained  for  nearly 
four  and  twenty  hours,  excepting  tliat 
often,  especially  during  the  night,  she 
uttered  the  most  plaintive  cries,  and 
seemed  in  great  bodily  pain.  We  at- 
tempted to  comfort  ourselves,  power- 
less as  we  were  to  relieve  her,  by  think- 
ing that  the  suffering  was  all  ours  who 
witnessed  her  condition,  and  that  she 
herself  was  not  sensible  of  the  affliction 
under  which  she  groaned.  We  had 
now  given  up  every  hope  that  she 
should  again  so  far  recover  as  to  be 
able  to  speak  to  us ;  and  our  prayer  to 
the  God  of  all  grace  on  her  behalf  was, 
that  he  would  speedily  perfect  His 
work  in  her  soul,  and  receive  it,  thus 
purified  in  his  furnace,  to  his  own  im- 
mediate presence,  where  there  "  shall 
be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor 
crying,  neither  shall  there  be  anymore 
pain :  for  the  former  things  are  passed 


166     SORROWING,   YET   REJOICING. 

away."  He,  however,  had  yet  mercy 
ill  store  for  our  wounded  spirits,  and 
was  pleased  to  permit  us  to  hold  com- 
munion with  our  beloved  child  once 
more,  ere  she  winged  her  way  to  the 
mansions  of  eternal  rest. 

Late  in  the  evening  of  the  day  before 
she  died,  as  her  mother  and  the  faithful 
governess,  who  had  been  with  the 
children  ever  since  they  entered  school, 
were  keeping  watch  by  her,  she  groan- 
ed heavily  once  or  twice,  and  appeared 
sensible  of  pain  or  some  uneasiness. 
Her  mother  accordingly  requested 
Miss  C  to  offer  some  drink  and  to  speak 
to  her.  During  all  the  time  from  the 
previous  evening,  she  had  made  no 
reply  to  any  question.  To  their  great 
joy,  when  novvasked  if  she  would  have 
a  drink,  she  answered,  "  Yes."  When 
she  had  swallowed  a  little,  on  being 
asked  again   if  it   was  good, — "Yes, 


CHAPTER    IV  167 

very  good,"  she  said ;  "  wnat  is  it 
made  of?"  Her  mother  saw  that  a 
new  opportunity  had  been  granted  of 
addressing  her  mind,  and  began  to  re- 
peat, "  Suffer  little  children  tocomeun- 
to  me," — the  dear  child  at  once  took  up 
the  words  ;  "  and  forbid  them  not,"  she 
continued,  "for  of  such  is  the  kingdom 
of  God."  Three  times  she  repeated 
the  passage,  and  seemed  afraid  she 
should  be  prevented  or  interrupted  in 
doing  so. 

I  was  sent  for,  being  in  an  adjoining 
room.  She  had  requested  her  mother 
to  come  near  her,  for  her  sight  was 
evidently  almost  or  entirely  gone  ;  and 
she  had  thrown  her  arm  around  her 
neck,  clinging  fondly  to  her,  as  she 
continued  to  repeat  the  words.  On 
hearing  my  voice,  she  unloosed  her 
arm,  and  stretched  out  both  to  me. 
She  took  hold  of  me,  and  seemed  to 


168     SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

delight  in  bein^  conscious  thai  she  held 
me,  and  that  I  was  with  her. 

"You  know,  my  dear  Ann,"  I  said, 
"who  spoke  those  sweet  words  you 
have  repeated,  and  how  faithful  they 
must  be  ?"  "  Yes,  I  know,  papa,"  she 
said  ;  "  and  what  would  I  be  if  Christ 
were  not  with  me  !  I  would  he  in  hell. 
O  what  would  I  be  if  Christ  were  not 
with  me  !"  Then,  after  a  little  pau^e, 
atlemptiniT  to  raise  her  sightless  eyes, 
she  added,  ''  Darling  Matilda,  you  are 
in  heaven,  and  I  shall  soon  be  there  loo  !'' 

These  were  the  last  intelligent  words 
we  heard  from  her.  Fearing  the  rapid 
return  of  stupor,  we  kneeled  down  that 
she  might  once  more  unite  with  us,  on 
earth,  in  the  Avor-hip  of  our  God  and 
Saviour.  For  a  litiie  moment  she  was 
permitted  to  do  this  ;  but  iheclood  came 
again,  and  never  till  the  end  did  she 
emerge  from  it. 


CHAPTER   IV.  169 

As  her  bodily  strength  was,  compar- 
atively, little  wasted,  and  as,  from  the 
shortness  of  her  illness,  she  was  but 
slightly  reduced,  we  dreaded  that,  in  the 
closing  scene,  she  would  suffer  greatly 
from  convulsions.  We  had  the  case  of 
her  dear  brother  before  our  eyes,  and 
torn  as  our  hearts  were  under  the  recol- 
lection of  what  we  had  witnessed  in 
him,  we  trembled  that  now  our  trial 
should  be  greallv  aggravated.  In  this 
agonising  anticipation,  we  besought  the 
Lord,  if  it  might  be,  to  be  spared  the 
affliction,  and  he  heard  us. 

Her  complaint  made  most  rapid  pro- 
gress. The  plaintive  moans  and  scream- 
ings  resounded  throughout  the  house 
during  the  ni^ht.  By  the  morning  they 
had  subsided.  During  the  forenoon  she 
lay  breathing  freely,  her  features  light- 
ed up,  and  their  expression  composed 
and  perfectly  peaceful.     The  rapid  cir- 


170      SORROUING,   YET   REJOICING. 

culalion  in  the  large  veins  of  the  neck 
and  throat,  seen  distinctly  as  her  head 
lay  stretched  back  upon  the  pillow,  told 
how  quickly  life  was  ebbing  away. 
Soon  after  raid  day  occasional  twitches 
of  the  face  and  contraction  of  the  fin- 
ger?, indicated  that  convulsions  had 
commenced.  We  sought  to  be  prepared 
for  the  Lord's  will ;  and  good  is  his 
will.  They  went  no  farther,  and  in  an 
hour  they  ceased  altogether.  A  short 
interval  succeeded,  in  which  no  symp- 
tom of  convulsion  or  distress  of  any 
kind  appeared ;  and,  at  three  o'clock 
exactly,  without  a  sigh  or  struggle,  she 
ceased  to  breathe.  Time  to  her  was 
at  an  end ;  her  sanctified  spirit  had 
fled  its  frail  tabernacle— a  body  of  sin 
and  death,  to  enter  on  the  inheritance 
which  Christ,  whose  presence  she  so 
sensibly  felt  in  the  dark  valley,  has  pur- 
chased, and  which,  in  sovereign  grace 


CHAPTER    IV.  171 

be  bestows  on  them  to  whom  it  is  giv- 
en to  believe  iu  his  name  ! 

Our  beloved  Ann  died  on  Saturday 
the  26th  May.  On  Wednesday  the 
30th,  her  mortal  remains  were  laid  in 
the  silent  grave.  She  was  placed  on 
Jessie's  left  hand,  the  coffins  touching 
each  other.  And  thus,  in  the  space  of 
six  short  weeks,  with  no  previous  anti- 
cipation of  such  a  trial,  were  we  called 
upon  to  part  with/ozjr  of  our  seven  dar- 
lings, the  delight  of  our  eyes  and  of  our 
heart,  and  to  see  them  laid  side  by  side 
in  the  same  grave.  There  they  rest — 
how  precious  to  us  the  spot ! — await- 
ing a  glorious  resurrection  ;  placed  as, 
very  probably,  they  would  have  arrang- 
ed themselves  if  going  out  to  walk — Al- 
exander at  Matilda's  right  hand,  and 
little  Jessie  between  her  two  elder  sis- 
ters. Thev  are  not,  for  God  has  taken 
them. 


172      SORROWING.    YET    REJOICING. 

"  Whate'er  we  fondly  call  our  own 

Belongs  to  heaven's  gnat  Lord  ; 
The  blessings  lent  us  for  a  day 

Are  soon  to  be  restored. 
'TIs  God  that  lifts  our  comforts  hijh 

Or  sinks  them  them  in  the  grave : 
He  gives  ;  and  when  he  takes  away 

He  takes  but  what  he  gave.' 

'  Perhaps  we  loved  them  too  well — 
perhaps  valued  them  too  little;  in  the 
meantime,  one  thin^  we  know — it  is 
well,  for  God  did  it." 

His  purposes  in  such  dispensations 
as  that  by  which  we  have  been  bereav- 
ed are  mysterious  to  us  ;  in  them  we 
are  made  to  "drink  of  the  wine  of  as- 
tonishment." But  if  He  makes  them 
occasions  for  the  display  of  the  power 
and  riches  of  His  grace,  ought  we  not 
to  be  contented  1  If  He  causes  us  to 
rejoice  over  brands  "plucked  out  of  the 
burning;"  over  "babes  and  sucklings," 
out    of    whose  mouths    He    perfects 


CHAPTER  IV.  173 

praise;  and  if  amidst  the  sufferings  of 
our  offspring,  sustaining  grace  adequate 
to  the  affliction  be  vouchsafed,  ought 
not  our  mourning  to  be  turned  into  joy  ? 
But  for  the  cloud  the  rainbow  could 
not  appear,  and  according  to  its  dark- 
ness is  the  brightness  of  the  token  of 
God's  immutable  covenant.  Abraham, 
no  doubt,  received  Isaac  with  great  joy, 
and  circumcised  him  according  to  the 
commandment.  But  God  re-demand- 
ed Isaac ;  yet  mark  the  end  of  the  Lord ! 
It  was  not  to  grieve  and  bereave  the  pa- 
rent, but  to  try,  and  purify  and  increase 
his  faith  ;  to  give  him  back  Isaac,  and 
load  him  with  farther  blessings. 
Christian  parents  must  be  the  children 
of  Abraham — they  must  follow  his  faith 
— submit  to  its  trials — and,  at  last,  "  in 
the  mount  of  the  Lord  it  shall  be  seen," — 
in  the  great  day,  they  shall  receive  bank 
their  Isaacs,  and  many  blessings  besides. 


174     SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

Christ  has  promised,  "  I  will  not 
leave  you  comfortless  ;  in  the  world  ye 
shall  have  tribulation  ;  but  be  of  good 
cheer."  Seasons  of  great  trial  are 
those  in  which  He  especially  proves  to 
his  children  his  faithfulness,  according 
to  his  word.  The  people  of  the  world 
may  then  refuse  to  be  comforted  ;  they 
may  fail  to  comprehend,  nay,  they  may 
misunderstand  the  source  of  consola- 
tion from  which  the  believer  is  sup- 
plied, when  every  stream  of  human 
consolation  is  dried  up  ;  but  to  him, 
God  indeed  "turns  his  countenance," 
— "  makes  darkness  light  before  him, 
and  crooked  things  straight.  These 
things  He  does,  and  He  will  not  for- 
sake him." 

By  the  foregoing  Narrative,  we  de- 
sire to  set  our  seal  that  God  is  true, 
and  to  encourage  his  Israel  to  hope  in 
him ;  for  with  him   is  mercy  and  plen- 


1 


CHAPTER  IV.  175 

teous  redemption.  To  obtrude  our  sor- 
rows on  olhers,  merely  to  relieve  our  owa 
hearts,  were  neither  justifiable  in  it- 
self, nor  likely  to  attaia  the  jjurposed 
end ;  but  to  declare  to  them  that  fear 
God  what  he  hath  done  for  us,  either 
in  our  own  persons,  or  those  of  our  be- 
loved offspring;  to  add  our  testimony 
to  the  eviden  e  of  iiis  grace  already  re- 
corded, or,  from  day  to  day  being  given, 
may  minister  encouragement  to  some 
of  the  ''  little  flock,"  whose  case  of  af- 
fliction, when  their  hour  of  darkness 
arrives,  ours  may  approximate  ;  and  it 
ffives  glory  to  Him  to  whom  alone  all 
honour  and  praise  are  due. 

In  the  greatest  depths,  amidst  the 
most  trying  agitations  of  sorrow,  he 
who  lives  by  faith,  and  who  has  aban- 
doned every  legal  hope,  may  be  made 
to  adopt  the  language  of  the  Psalmist, 
and   say, — "  la  the  multitude  of  my 


176        SORROWING,    YET    REJOICING. 

thoughts  within  me,  thy  comforts  de- 
light my  soul."  There  is  such  an  ex- 
perience, — not  a  vain  imagination,  nor 
the  ofls|)ring  ot  a  delusive  enthusiasm. 
This  consolation  is  the  work  of  God, 
and  its  elements  are  rich  and  abundant. 
It  is  mjoyed  when  the  believer  is  ena- 
bled, through  grace,  to  justify  Him  in 
his  severest  dealings ;  sincerely  to  ac- 
knowledge, because  he  truly  feels,  that 
he  receives  less  than  his  sins  deserve, 
and  not  one  stripe  more  than  the  safely 
of  his  soul  requires  j  when,  in  the  chas- 
tisements inflicted,  be  is  made  to  dis- 
cern mercy,  inasmuch  as  others,  far 
more  trying,  might  have  been  substitu- 
ted in  their  room  ;  when  a  blessed  as- 
surance is  borne  in  upon  his  mind,  that 
not  the  sword  of  justice  inflicts  the 
wounds  for  which  he  mourns,  but  the 
rod  of  parental  discipline  j  when  he 
perceives,  in  his  corrections,  the  token 


CHAPTER    IV.  177 

ofsonship,  and  his  spirit  revives  under 
the  conviction  that,  all  beinj;  partakers 
of  them,  where  he  exempted  h^  should 
be  a  bastard  and  not  a  son ;  when  a 
holy  assurance  is  wrought  in  him,  that 
when  judged  he  is  chastened  of  the 
Lord,  that  he  should  not  be  condemned 
with  the  world  ;  when,  under  the  vig- 
orous actings  of  faith,  every  jot  and  tit- 
tle of  the  Scriptures  is  to  his  eye  stamp- 
ed with  the  living  certainty  of  truth,  as 
if  written  with  light,  as  "  spirit  and 
life  ;"  threatenings  vivid  as  the  hand- 
writing on  the  wall ;  promises  shining 
with  as  steady  and  enduring  a  flame  as 
tlie  lamp  which  never  went  out  on 
the  altar  of  the  Lord  ;  and  precepts 
become  sweet,  and  to  be  desired,  as 
the  droppings  of  the  honey-comb  ; 
when  the  world  and  all  that  it  con- 
tains, weighed  in  the  balance  of  the 
sanctuary,  or  tried  by  the  high  stand- 
12 


178        SOKROWINGj    YET    REJOICING. 

ard  which  measures  the  things  of 
eternity,  is  felt  to  be  a  "  lying  vanity  ;" 
when  the  nearness  of  Christ  to  the 
soul,  in  all  the  ordinances  by  which 
we  may  approach  him,  and  in  which 
he  visits  us,  is  sensibly  perceived,  and 
though  the  veil  which  "this  mortal" 
interposes,  is  not,  as  in  Stephen's  case, 
removed  to  reveal  him  to  sense,  standing 
at  God's  right  hand,  yet  faith  experi- 
ences his  presence  and  compassion  ; — 
then  the  "  peace  which  passeth  all 
understanding,"  and  which,  over  and 
far  beyond  every  wave  of  trouble,  points 
to  the  happy  land  of  promise,  "  keeps 
the  heart  and  mind  through  Christ  Jesus 
the  Lord."  "  Who  is  among  you  that 
feareth  the  Lord,  thatobeyeth  the  voice 
of  his  servant,  that  walketh  in  darkness 
and  hath  no  light  ?  let  him  trust  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon  his 
God."     "  Truly  God  is  good  to  Israel" 


# 


CHAPTER   IV.  179 

The  world  is  prone  to  judge  by 
sense  of  tl-.e  condition  of  the  people  of 
God  under  his  dealings  with  them,  in 
which  case  there  is  no  wonder  that  they 
esteem  them  of  all  men  the  most  misera- 
ble. These  will  not  drink  of  the  foun- 
tains from  which  a  polluted  and  destruc- 
tive relief  is  drawn  by  sinners  who  have 
never  known  any  other,  and  who  have 
heard  in  vain  of  the  '•  river  which  makes 
glad  the  city  of  God."  "  The  troubles 
which  afflict  the  just,"  moreover,  are 
many,  while  they  who  fear  not  God 
often,  for  a  time,  "have  no  changes." 
Yet  it  is  infinitely  better,  even  with 
reference  to  the  world  that  now  is,  to 
suffer  affliction  with  the  one,  than  to 
enjoy  the  pleasure  of  sin  with  the  other. 
The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them 
that  fear  him,  and  a  stranger  doth  not 
intermeddle  with  their  joy.  Is  not  the 
case  of  David,  in  all  his  afflictions,  with 


ISO  SORROWING,  YET  REJOICING. 

that  of  Daniel  and  his  companions, 
recorded  ;  and  has  not  the  experience 
of  holv  niarlyrs,  in  every  age.  corres- 
ponded wiih,  and  confirmed  the  truth 
attested  hy  those,  that  God  keeps  his 
])Coph^  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and  hide# 
thom  under  the  shadow  of  his  wings? 
True,  He  himself  is  their  Saviuur,  and 
worldlv  comforts  are  not  the  portion 
■\vilh  which  He  feeds  them  ;  but  is  that 
jiortion  tlie  less  real  that  it  is  spiritual? 
li;iy,  IS  it  not  this  which  renders  it  suit- 
able, substantial,  and  enduring?  "'The 
thing?  wliicb  are  seen  are  temporal, 
those  which  are  unseen  eternal."  Id 
tlie  dayul'ijreat  trouble,  when  ihv  I.,ord 
smiles  there  is  a  largeness  of  confession, 
a  vigour  of  faiih,  a  closeness  of  com- 
mune, n,  a  liberty  of  inieicour^e,  an 
earnesiness  of  interct  ssijii,  a  lervturol 
devotion,  a  sense  of  farour,and  a  dead- 
n  ~ss  to  ilie  world,  at  other  times  either 


&- 


CHAPTER   rV.  181 

not  granted,  or  but  languidly  enjoyed  ; 
and  the  body,  ever  affected  by  the 
state  of  the  spirit,  is  often,  in  such 
circumstances,  so  strengthened  and 
upheld,  that  "  songs  of  deliverance " 
encompass  the  afflicted,  even  amidst 
the  "  sorrows  of  death." 

None  are  entitled  to  wish  for  trials  ; 
in  themselves  they  are  not  pleasant 
but  grievous ;  yet  they  who  live  by 
faith,  whilst  they  anticipate  days  of 
darkness,  ought  not  to  be  dismayed. 
They  must  pass  through  the  cloud,  but 
Christ  will  be  there.  Of  the  cup  which 
He  drank  they  must  partake,  though 
not  as  He  did,  and  with  his  baptism  be 
baptized,  but  his  strength  will  uphold 
and  his  grace  preserve  them.  His  faith- 
fulness is  their  buckler,  and  no  emer- 
gency can  arise  for  which  full  provision 
has  not  been  made  in  that  covenant, 
of  which  He  is  head  and  surety.    The 


®- 


182     SORROWING,    YET   REJOICING. 

last  enemy  is  as  feeble  before  him,  whe- 
ther encountered  by  an  infant  or  a  patri- 
arch, as  all  the  rest  with  whom  through 
life  his  people  are  called  to  contend.  Has 
sin  ceased  to  reign  in  your  mortal  body 
— has  the  devil  been  successfully  resis. 
ted — has  the  world,  in  any  measure, 
been  overcome  ?  Then  death,  too,  will 
be  destroyed  through  him  who  "  deliv- 
ered you  out  of  the  paw  of  the  lion  and 
the  bear  j"  and  the  song  of  triumph 
will  be  sung,  "  O  death,  where  is  thy 
sting  ?  O  grave  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 
But  let  none  think  that  there  is  no 
suflfering  in  the  Christian's  afflictions. 
If  this  were  so,  why  should  they  be 
sent  ?  Their  lamentation  and  tears  in 
the  sight  of  God  tell  truly  how  painful 
they  feel  them  to  be.  Their  language 
often  is,  "  Behold,  and  see  if  there  be 
any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow !"  How 
often  was  this  our  complaint  under  the 


CHAPTER   IV.  183 

pressure  of  the  accumulated  affliction 
laid  upon  us  !  Never  till  then  did  we 
comprehend  that  extremity  of  grief 
which  affects  the  bodily  powers,  so  as 
to  induce  a  torpidity  of  action,  which 
finds  its  relief  in  sleep.  The  disciples 
endured  it ;  for  it  is  recorded  that  they 
"  slept  for  sorrow,"  in  the  dark  hour  of 
their  Master's  agouy.  Again  and  again 
did  He  come  to  them,  after  He  had 
charged  them  to  watch, — as  if  He  could 
have  enjoyed  some  secret  comfort,  from 
a  knowledge  that  they  did  so, — and 
found  them  thus  overwhelmed.  There 
is  such  an  extremity,  the  exclusive 
product  of  genuine  sorrow.  It  may 
come  upon  those  who  are  dear  to 
Christ ;  they  may  be  exposed  to  it,  but 
they  will  be  preserved  in  it.  Though 
they  sink  He  neither  slumbers  nor 
sleeps.  The  iron  may  enter  their  soul, 
but  its  wound  is  not  deadly.     Here  is 


m- 


184     SORROWING,   YET    REJOICING. 

their  privilege — though  "  chastened 
sore,  they  are  not  given  over  to  death," 
— "  the  blessings  of  goodness  prevent 
them." 

Yet  even  in  its  worst  character, 
theirs  is  not  the  "  sorrow  of  the  world  j' 
not  that  of  those  who  "  cry  not  unto 
him  with  their  heart,  though  they  howl 
upon  their  beds."  The  seventy  of  the 
stripes  with  which  they  are  scourged 
is  not  so  much  that  which  wounds  their 
spirit  and  weighs  them  down,  as  the 
conviction  that  their  sins  have  rendered 
such  discipline  necessary.  O  !  the  an- 
guish with  v/hich  they  are  penetrated 
from  this  cause  ;  and  O  !  the  precious- 
ness  of  that  blood,  by  which  they  are 
washed  from  their  sins  and  re-establish- 
ed in  a  sense  of  the  favour  and  friend- 
ship of  God !  How  sweet  too,  thereafter, 
a  closer  and  more  faithful  walk  wiih 
Christ ;  a  greater  deadness  to  the  world 


-^ 


CHAPTER    17.  185 

and  sin  ;  a  deeper  and  more  genuine 
humility  ;  single  hearted  devotedness  to 
God  and  his  cause,  in  simple  and  exclu- 
sive dependence  upon  that  grace  which 
IS  sufficient,  and  by  which  we  can  do 
and  endure  all  things  ! 

It  may  be  gratifying  to  some  to  know 
that  the  three  children  who  for  a  time 
were  separated  from  their  home,  have,  in 
the  mercy  of  God.  been  restored  to  their 
usual  health.  "  Behold  we  count  them 
happy  that  endure.  Ye  have  heard  of 
the  patience  of  Job,  and  have  seen  the 
end  of  the  Lord  ;  that  the  Lord  is  very 
pitiful  and  of  tender  mercy." 


THE   END. 


DATE  DUE 

HIGHSMITH  #45115 

•^-^ 


